Changes
by Elil Galia
Summary: Hermione's been going through some changes over the summer...
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any of the characters contained in this fic, they all belong to J.K Rowling and remain her property.  
  
Sorry it starts off so slow but the main body of the story is better, I promise! I just had to get there somehow and the first chapter is just laying out some basic ideas etc. please read and review.  
  
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September first had dawned bright and sunny, and Harry Potter woke with a start as his best friend, Ron Weasley poked him hard in the ribs. "Harry, wake up! We slept in; we're going to miss the train if we don't leave now!" Ron dashed around the room, throwing things into his trunk, and Harry got up quickly and began to dress. "Mum's going spare!" Ron told him with a grin, "you know what she's like, she always panics the day we catch the train!"  
  
Harry pulled a jumper over his head and ran a hand through his hair. He threw his pyjamas into his trunk, picked up Hedwig's cage and set off down the stairs. Mrs Weasley stood in the kitchen of the Burrow barking orders at Mr Weasley, who was putting Ginny's trunk into the boot of a red Volvo that he had borrowed from someone he knew. Harry dragged his trunk across the kitchen to the back door as Ron came thumping down the stairs behind him.  
  
"Breakfast!" Mrs Weasley shrieked, handing pieces of toast to everyone as she pushed them out the door. Harry squashed into the back of the car beside Ginny, and Ron clambered in on the other side of her, Mr Weasley slammed the boot and climbed into the driver's side. "Are we ready?" He asked breathlessly, starting the engine. "Just drive Arthur!" Said Mrs Weasley looking harassed. She sighed as Mr Weasley pulled out of their garden and onto the road, and remained silent for the remainder of the journey to Kings Cross, where she became frantic once again. "Ron, trolleys, quickly!" Ron signed and he and Harry went to find trolleys for their trunks.  
  
They made their way through the crowds to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and took it in turns to pass through to platform nine and three quarters, where the Hogwarts Express awaited them, smoking like a sleeping dragon.  
  
There were hugs all round and Mrs Weasley ushered them onto the train. "Behave in your final year." She told Harry and Ron seriously, "work hard and don't go looking for fights!" Harry grinned. "We don't go looking." He began, "fights find us!" Ron finished and Mrs Weasley rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. The train let out a warning whistle and Mrs Weasley kissed them quickly. "Have a good year." She called as the Hogwarts Express began to pull out of the station.  
  
Ron led the way down the corridor and they eventually found an empty carriage at the end far of the train. "Does anyone know where Hermione is?" Ginny asked, flopping into a seat. Harry shook his head. "I haven't really heard much from her over the summer. I just got one owl, in the second or third week." Ron nodded. "She said she was going to Romania." He shrugged. "I'll go and look for her." He stood up and departed, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. Ginny smiled at him.  
  
"Are you nervous about your NEWTS?" She asked and Harry shrugged. "Been trying not to think about it really. This is going to be my last year at Hogwarts. I don't know what's going to happen afterwards, what I'm going to do, where I'm going to live." He shrugged again. Ginny patted his hand reassuringly. "You'll be fine. You don't have to worry about that stuff right now." She shifted closer to him. "Harry," She began, and Harry looked up at her because she sounded very nervous. "There's something I want to ask you," She told him breathlessly, her eyes on the floor, "and I'm not sure if I'll like what you say."  
  
Harry frowned and tilted her chin to that he could look in her eyes. "What is it?" He asked gently, and Ginny blushed. "I. I. I. just wondered." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I wondered if you know if Neville fancies me!" She blurted, and Harry grinned. He shook his head, chuckling. "I don't know, but I can find out if you want me to." "Oh no!! You can't ask him Harry. Promise me you won't ask him. I'd just die if he didn't like me back!" Harry patted her knee. "It's alright." He told her sincerely. "I won't tell him."  
  
They both looked toward the door as it opened and Ron came in, followed by Neville. Ginny blushed scarlet and pretended to be looking out of the window. "Where's Hermione?" Harry asked when she didn't follow them in, and Ron sat down next to him, frowning. "She's not on the train Harry. No-one's seen her, and we haven't heard from her in ages. You don't think." Ron hesitated, a pained expression on his face. "You don't think anything's happened to her, do you?"  
  
Despite the warm sunlight flooding their carriage, Harry shuddered. It was totally unlike Hermione to be late for anything, and that she would miss the train to Hogwarts was unthinkable. He swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head. "Nah!" He tried to laugh off Ron's suggestion. "She'll just be talking to someone and we just can't find her. There's no reason to think she's not perfectly ok. She. she's probably." He trailed off, his mind racing with terrible thoughts. "She's fine." He went on, "She be at Hogwarts. Yeah, that's right." He was talking to himself more than Ron, trying to convince himself that what he was saying was true, but suddenly he felt horribly sick.  
  
Hermione ALWAYS wrote to them over the summer, even when she was on holiday. He remembered the summer after the second year when she'd gone to France and written telling him about all the things she was learning.  
  
A tense silence filled the carriage, which was broken only by the arrival of the trolley witch. As usual, Harry bought a bit of everything to share with his friends, but it didn't feel right with Hermione missing. "It still feels strange without Fred and George being here, doesn't it?" Ron asked, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah," Harry agreed, "and next year it's going to be Ginny on her own." Ginny screwed up her nose. "I'm not sure if I like that idea," she mumbled. "Sometimes I hate being the youngest!" Neville swallowed the mouthful of chocolate frog that he had been chewing thoughtfully while studying a wizard card and piped up, "at least you're not an only child. I never had anyone to play with!"  
  
Ginny flushed again at being addressed by the object of her affection and Harry smiled faintly. He wondered what the year ahead would hold for them, what twists and surprises. Once they had begun talking again the atmosphere changed for the better, and soon it was time for them to be changing into their robes as their neared the end of their journey.  
  
Harry was dimly aware that Malfoy had not yet appeared and insulted and irritated them, and even as he thought it, the carriage door slid open and Malfoy stood in the light of the setting sun, framed by his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. "Oh look, it's Potter and the Weasels, oh, and the squid too!" Neville went pale but said nothing. "And where's the filthy mudblood?" Malfoy demanded, seeing that Hermione was not with them. "Mind your own business Malfoy!" Harry spat and Malfoy smirked. "Couldn't she handle the pressure of the final year? Poor mudblood baby decided to stay home so she didn't embarrass herself!" He laughed scornfully and Crabbe and Goyle guffawed dutifully. Ron growled but Ginny poked him and he fell silent.  
  
"Well Potter," Malfoy began his eyes cold, "this may be my last chance, so I'm going to get you good. You'll remember the name Malfoy with fear if it's the last thing you do!" Before Harry could retort, Malfoy had gone, slamming the door behind him.  
  
"What a pratt!" Ron spat furiously, his ears reddening. "Like he's so terrifying!" Harry mumbled an agreement but didn't say anything. Malfoy's comments about Hermione had started worrying him afresh, and his stomach churned at the thought of her not being at Hogwarts with them.  
  
As the train pulled into Hogsmede station, Harry prayed that Hermione would be at the castle waiting for them.  
  
He didn't want to think about the alternative. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ok this second part if just as slow as the first, but I'm almost almost to the good stuff so please be patient with me. Again, all characters belong to J.K Rowling, except Falguni Ovu Mobani who is my own creation apart from the name, which I borrowed from Buffy. Please read and review, constructive criticism is very welcome. Rated R for later content.  
  
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Harry got off the train and looked around the platform for the familiar figure of Hagrid rounding up the first years ready for the trip across the lake. He saw the friendly giant at the far end of the platform and felt slightly better; Hagrid always reminded him that he was home at Hogwarts where he belonged.  
  
He waited for Ron, Ginny and Neville, and led the way toward the line for the carriages which took all other years up to the castle. As the carriages past, Harry started in grim fascination at the threstals, remembering the night he had first seen them and the panic he had felt at seeing something no-one else could. He swallowed, the knowledge that he could see them because he had seen Cedric murdered by Lord Voldemort weighing heavily in his stomach.  
  
Finally they were at the front of the line and Harry opened the door of the carriage that stopped, and froze. Hermione was sitting inside, and she looked at him as he stood there gaping. "Hello Harry," she said softly, her voice strangely husky.  
  
"Harry, what's up?" Ron asking, looking in over Harry's shoulder. His mouth fell open. "You're holding everyone up," Hermione told them coolly, and Harry shook himself and climbed in. The others piled after him and sat staring at Hermione as the carriage pulled off, jolting them from side to side as it rumbled down the bumpy road.  
  
"Hermione, why weren't you on the train?" Ron asked, "You're never late for anything!" He added incredulously. Hermione smiled in her dark corner, and licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I flew in last night," she shrugged, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "There were some things I had to sort out." Harry frowned, not at all sure he liked her answer, but he didn't push her.  
  
"How was your holiday?" She asked, looking from Harry to Ron, and Ron shrugged. "Fred and George came to stay and showed us some of their new joke shop stuff. Mum got really annoyed with them and kept taking it out on us." He looked at Ginny who nodded curtly, a look of disgust on her face. "And she kept asking them where they got the money from... She even asked them if they robbed Gringotts!"  
  
Everyone laughed at that and Harry suddenly became very interested in looking out of the window, his insides boiling with guilt. He was relieved that Fred and George hadn't let on about how he had given them his Triwizard winnings; at the time it had seemed like the best thing to do, but now he felt awful every time it was mentioned.  
  
"How about you Neville?" Hermione asked softly, and Neville flushed. No- one had ever asked him about his summer before. "Well me and my gran went to stay with my uncle Algae for a while. And we visited my mum and dad a few times." He trailed off sadly. Neville's parents were in St Mungos, the wizarding hospital, having been cursed into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville hadn't told his friends this, and it was entirely by accident that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had found out, whilst visiting Mr Weasley. Ginny patted Neville's knee reassuringly, he laced his fingers through hers and smiled weakly.  
  
The carriage drew to a halt outside the castle and Harry opened the door and clambered out. Ron, Neville and Ginny jumped down, and Harry offered his hand to Hermione. The fingers which reached out and met his were icy cold, the nails long and painted blood red. As she stepped gracefully down into the light emanating from the main entrance, Harry gasped.  
  
Her usually bushy brown hair hung sleek and shiny past her shoulders, and rippled like silk in the breeze. She tossed her head, flicking her hair out of her eyes and Harry's mouth fell open. Her face was pale, her skin flawless, and her cheekbones were prominent and angular. Her lips were full and red as she licked them, but what amazed Harry most was her eyes. Normally brown, they seemed almost golden in the flickering light, the lashes long and dark against the paleness of her skin.  
  
Ron cleared his throat, barely noticing the change in her as Hermione alighted. "We need to get the feast," he said, edging towards the castle doors. "I'm starving!"  
  
Harry nodded and followed Ron through the doors and into the Great Hall, awed by the enchanted ceiling which reflected the clear night sky. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, like some primal warning system left over from the days of the cavemen. He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no-one or nothing behind him apart from Hermione.  
  
She flashed him a smile as they sat down at the Gryffindor table and Harry suddenly realised there was something strange about her mouth, although he couldn't place his finger on what it was. In fact, if he was honest with himself, there was something very strange about Hermione indeed.  
  
The roar of voices suddenly fell silent as Professor McGonagall stepped onto the stage holding the stool with the sorting hat on. The small group of first years, who to Harry looked absolutely terrified, huddled together for protection, casting wary looks about the hall.  
  
As the sorting hat opened its mouth and began to sing, Harry looked up at the teachers table and was unsurprised to see a strange face among the familiar ones. "We're got another new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," he whispered to Hermione, who nodded. "Falguni Ovu Mobani. I met her last night, she's really great. She's from Nigeria," she whispered back, and Harry found himself staring at her mouth, peculiar feelings stirring inside him.  
  
He swallowed and turned to look at the new professor, who turned her head and met his gaze directly. The woman before him had skin as black as midnight, hair as white as snow, and eyes that were a bright, almost fluorescent green. She winked at him and grinned, revealing a smile that lit up her face. Harry smiled back and watched the rest of the sorting ceremony.  
  
As the last girl took her place at the Ravenclaw table, Professor Dumbledore stood up and the chatter died away. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." His voice was sharp and clear, as always, and caused the few whispered conversations that were still going on to die. "As usual, welcome to all new students, and also a warm welcome to the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Falguni Ovu Mobani, who has come all the way from Africa to be with us this year. I'm sure after the long journey you're all hungry, so for now I'll say one more thing. Eat, drink and be merry!"  
  
At his words, food covered the five tables, and the students set upon it hungrily. Harry and Ron both filled their plates with their favourite things; mashed potatoes, steak and kidney pie, sausages and bacon, roast potatoes, and a helping of peas and carrots to be healthy, while Hermione took a huge chunk of rare steak, a few boiled potatoes and some green beans.  
  
The two boys ate heartily, but Harry noticed that Hermione was playing with her food more than eating it, and she'd hardly touched her goblet of butterbeer. "Is something wrong?" He asked her quietly, and she flashed him another of those amazing disarming smiles. "No, I just had a big lunch and I'm still full." She nodded reassuringly. "I'm fine." She stroked the back of his hand. "But thank you for being concerned."  
  
Harry cleared his throat, pushed his glasses back up his nose and went back to eating his dinner, thoroughly confused. Did Hermione fancy him? Did he fancy her? Is that why Ron hadn't noticed there was anything strange or different about her? He looked at Ron, who was talking to Ginny and Neville, who were still holding hands. He smiled faintly and nudged Ron. "Have you noticed anything different about Hermione?" He whispered, and Ron looked at her properly for the first time.  
  
His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Bloody hell. She looks." he trailed off, but his look said it all. She looked fantastically sexy. Ron suddenly crossed his legs and let one hand fall across his lap, and Harry smirked.  
  
Yeah, he thought, Hermione had done that to him as well. She'd given him a major hard on when she touched him. He looked at her in awe. He didn't know what had happened to her over the summer, but he was going to find out. 


	3. Chapter 3

Ok, this is the last boring chapter before the action begins (hope you'll agree!) Again with the "I don't own anything" disclaimer. Please read and review because the next chapter doesn't get posted until I have at least one review! Thank you!  
  
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After the feast, Hermione, Harry and Ron made their way up to the Gryffindor tower with the others, Harry and Ron both secretly checking out Hermione's new look. "The new password is Kneazle," she told them at the portrait of the fat lady, and the door to the common room swung open.  
  
They sat in their favourite chairs by the fire, and Ginny and Neville joined them, still holding hands. "So, are you two, like, well are you two a two?" Ron asked Ginny, who met his eyes defiantly and nodded. "Yes, Ron, Neville is my boyfriend. Do you have a problem with that?!"  
  
Ron gave Neville a funny look. "If you were anyone else mate, I'd deck you one. But since it's you and I know you won't hurt my sister because you know I'll kill you..." Neville paled and Ginny punched Ron in the arm. "He's only joking," she told Neville reassuringly. "AREN'T YOU!" She hissed through gritted teeth and Ron nodded vehemently.  
  
Ginny turned to Hermione, who was lounging in the chair nearest the fire with her legs over the arm. "You look great, Hermione, what did you do over the summer?" Hermione tilted her head and the firelight reflected in her eyes. "I went to Transylvania with my parents. Nothing great. I met a boy. That was amazing." She grinned and winked at Ginny, who laughed, while Harry and Ron scowled.  
  
"And the make-over?" Neville asked, joining the conversation. Hermione smiled again, and Harry frowned, still not knowing what was wrong with her mouth. Something to do with her lips maybe?  
  
"I'm 18," she told them, stretching languorously, her robes creeping up her thighs a good few inches. "I'm not a little girl any more. So I thought I'd go for a spunky new look." She looked up and caught Ron staring at her legs, and laughed. "Sorry," Ron mumbled, blushing profusely and averting his eyes.  
  
"Hermione," Harry said suddenly, "have you done something to your teeth?" Hermione paused, giving him a long cool look. "Like what?" She asked eventually, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I feel stupid now, but your mouth looks different, like when you shrunk your teeth for the Yule Ball in the fourth year."  
  
Hermione grinned widely, and laughed softly. "No, I haven't done anything like that since then. My parents weren't very happy about that, they're dentists and would have preferred I stuck to my retainer." A shadow suddenly seemed to cross her face and she shuddered. "Well, I'm going to bed." She said, getting shakily to her feet.  
  
"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asked, getting up to steady her. "Yeah, just exhausted. I'll be fine tomorrow." She headed in the direction of the girls dormitories. "Night." And she disappeared up the stairs.  
  
"Does anyone else think that was strange?" Harry asked tentatively, and Ron nodded his agreement. "Do you want me to go check on her?" Ginny asked, and Harry shook his head. "No, thanks. If she says she's fine, we should leave her." He stared wonderingly at the stairs. Despite himself, he found that he was yawning, and shook his head to clear it. He looked down at his watch and found that it was almost midnight already.  
  
"Wow, look how late it is." He yawned again and stood up, grinning as the others all began to yawn as well. "I'm going to bed. See you all in the morning. Ron, are you coming?" Ron nodded, cast a long look at Neville and Ginny, and followed Harry up the spiral staircase to their room. "Did you see Neville and Ginny?" He pulled a face. "I don't like it."  
  
Harry sighed and sat on the end of his bed, unlacing his trainers and kicking them aside. "You didn't mind it when Ginny fancied me," he said as he pulled his jumper off. "Why should Neville be any different?" "Well you WERE different. You didn't fancy her back for a start." Ron shrugged. "I guess I just worry that she'll get hurt, you know. Especially after the chamber of secrets thing." He clambered into bed and pulled the sheets up to his neck.  
  
Harry took his glasses off, putting them on the cabinet beside his bed, and lay down. "Ginny's smart," he said by way of reply, his eyelids drooping as sleep enveloped him in its warm haze. "She can take care of herself. Like Hermione." Ron mumbled something quietly and began to snore. Harry rolled over and fell asleep.  
  
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When Harry opened his eyes the sun was streaming in through the tower windows, and he screwed his eyes shut and rolled over. "Harry, wake up," Ron said groggily, poking him in the leg as he walked past on his way to the bathroom. Harry groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and groping at the cabinet for his glasses. He yawned, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up.  
  
He was dressed by the time Ron came back, went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, and ambled down to the common room, where Ron was waiting for him. "Should we wait for Hermione?" He asked and Ron shrugged. "How about you wait and I go get us seats?" He suggested. Harry nodded, and Ron climbed out through the portrait and out of sight.  
  
Harry had been waiting for about five minutes and there was still no sign of Hermione. He was about to go down to the Great Hall when Parvati came down the girls staircase. "Parvati." Harry accosted her as she crossed the common room. "Is Hermione still getting dressed?" Parvati shook her head, her long dark hair rippling around her face. "No Harry. She didn't sleep with us last night. She wasn't there when Lavender and I went up, and her bed hasn't been slept in." She shrugged and walked off, leaving Harry deeply confused.  
  
He made his way quickly down to the Great Hall, anxious to see if Hermione was there already and to question her as to her whereabouts during the night. He got the doorway of the Great Hall and spotted Ron sat in the middle of two empty seats; no Hermione.  
  
Harry rushed to the Gryffindor table and sat next to Ron. "Where's Hermione?" Ron queried and Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Parvati said that Hermione didn't sleep in their room last night." Ron frowned. "What? But we saw her go up the stairs..." Harry shrugged. "She wasn't there when Lavender and Parvati went to bed. And they went before us." He took a bite out of his bacon sandwich and shrugged again.  
  
A fifth year prefect came around handing out timetables, and Harry noted that they had double Transfiguration first lesson, followed by double Potions. He scowled, as if he didn't have enough to think about without Snape being on his back on the first day. AGAIN! "Hey, Harry." Ron was studying his timetable and had also noticed they had transfiguration first. "We can ask McGonagall if she knows where Hermione is. Maybe she got ill during the night or something like that." Harry nodded glumly, hoping Ron was right.  
  
They finished breakfast and had just made it to the Transfiguration classroom when the bell rang, signalling the beginning of lessons. Professor McGonagall was already waiting for them, wearing her usual stern expression. "Hurry up please!" She said briskly, and everyone found their seats and quickly took their books, parchment and quills out.  
  
"Well, welcome to your final year at Hogwarts. As you will all be aware, this year you will be sitting your N.E.W.T.S., probably the hardest examinations you will ever have to complete. Since you were aware of what was required when you began my N.E.W.T. course, I am expecting nothing but the best from you all." She paused and her expression softened slightly. "Of course, the best is all I get from many of you and the rest of you try your hardest, so I am sure I won't be disappointed. If you would kindly turn to page 3 in your text books, you will get a rough idea of what we will be doing this year."  
  
As soon as the class had settled down to reading, Harry put his hand up in the air. Professor McGonagall frowned and made her way over to him. "What is it Potter?" "Professor, do you know where Hermione is? We haven't seen her today, and Parvati said she wasn't in the girls dormitories last night."  
  
A peculiar expression crossed Professor McGonagall's face and she looked away from him for a moment. "Miss Granger spent the night in the hospital wing. I'm sure she will tell you why if she chooses in Potions. Please carry on reading."  
  
Harry glanced at Ron, who had been eavesdropping, and Ron made an 'I don't know' gesture. Harry didn't know what to think, so carried on with his reading, for the first time in his life wishing it was time for Potions.  
  
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It was cold and dark in the dungeons, and Harry, already consumed with worries about N.E.W.T.S., Snape and Hermione, felt thoroughly depressed. The sight of a group of Slytherins outside the Potions lab did little to lighten his mood, especially when Malfoy commented on Hermione's absence at breakfast. Harry snarled and lunged at Malfoy, but a hand held him back and he turned to see who it was.  
  
Hermione gave him a reproving look but said nothing. "Where have you been?" He asked, taken aback slightly by how good she looked today considering she was supposed to have spent the night in the hospital wing. "I had a problem with my stomach last night. I ended up on the floor in the girls bathroom not long after I'd gone to bed." She shrugged. "I'm fine." Ron was about to question her further on her stomach complaint when the door to the potions lab opened and they filed inside in silence. They chose seats at the back of the class, away from Snape and Malfoy. Snape, like Professor McGonagall, began the class by droning on about N.E.W.T.S., by threatening death and torture if they failed and embarrassed him, and gave them a course outline to write down.  
  
Potions passed uneventfully, and Harry was hungry by the time the bell rang for lunch. He, Ron and Hermione packed up their things and headed up the corridor towards the stairs. "Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, pausing. "I forgot my quill. I'll see you later." And she strode back the way they had come. Ron frowned. "I swear I saw her put it in her bag." He scratched his nose. "Harry, there's something really weird about Hermione." Harry nodded and they went up to lunch...  
  
Hermione didn't reappear for lunch, and didn't join them for Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures out in the grounds. Harry asked Hagrid if he knew what was going on, but he mumbled something about girls just being strange sometimes, and avoided the subject. By the time Care of Magical Creatures ended, Harry had a crazy idea in his mind, and it made him feel sick with fear and excitement. He was going to share his thoughts with Ron, but thought better of it until he had some kind of proof.  
  
The two boys sat in the common room and did some of the homework that they had already been setting, and made their way down to dinner, once again without Hermione. She didn't show up to dinner, and it was dark by the time they reached Gryffindor tower again. Hermione was sat waiting for them, her legs crossed, a sultry smile on her lips. "Where have you been all day?" Ron asked incredulously, "I can't believe you're missing N.E.W.T.S. lessons!"  
  
"Hermione." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, tiny beads of sweat prickling along the back of his neck as she turned and looked at him. "There's something I want to ask you... I mean it all adds up... Not sleeping in the tower, missing breakfast and every class except Potions which was in the dungeon, and not appearing until the sun had gone down..." His voice cracked and he took a deep breath. "Hermione, are you a vampire?"  
  
She smiled widely, and Harry saw that he had been right about something being strange with her mouth.  
  
She had fangs. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione stared at Harry, her gaze cool. They were in the boys' dormitories, the door sealed by one of her charms. "How did you work it out?" She asked and Harry shrugged. "It just all added up. First you weren't on the train, but were here when we arrived in the dark. Then you said you flew in at night, you didn't eat anything at dinner. There was the thing about being ill and only being in potions finally not showing up until after sunset."  
  
"How did it happen?" Ron asked quietly from his bed. "You really want to know exactly how it happened?" Hermione enquired softly, chewing her lower lip. Ron hesitated and glanced at Harry, who was pale and sweaty, but nodded emphatically. "Yes." Ron nodded as well, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Tell us everything." Hermione's fangs glinted in the moonlight as she sighed. "Everything?" "Everything."  
  
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Flashback  
  
Hermione looked out of the window and sighed. This was the fabulous holiday her parents had promised: a vampire hunt in Transylvania. She sighed again, knowing there would be trouble if they ran into real vampires, and returned to her book on Egypt, where she had hoped they were going. "Hermione," Alice Granger nudged her daughter, pointing out the window. "We're about to pass Dracula's castle. Apparently there have been disappearances in the area recently." Her mother laughed. "Perhaps Dracula has risen from the grave!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored her mother, instead thinking longingly of exploring pyramids and encountering ancient Egyptian magic first-hand. Despite herself, she glanced up at the castle and felt a shiver run down her spine, imagining that she had seen a shadow pass one of the glassless windows. Shaking her head she went back to her book, and didn't look up again until they arrived at the hotel.  
  
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Hermione lay in bed, trying to sleep but so hot she felt she couldn't breathe. She opened her eyes and looked around the darkened room, the outlines of unfamiliar furniture visible in the light let in through the thin curtains. She sat up with a sigh, holding the sheet against her bare chest out of habit more that modesty. She fished a hair-tie out of the pile of clothes on the floor and tugged her hair back into a ponytail. Swinging her feet over the edge of the large bed, she stood, let the sheet fall, and strode naked over to the drawer which held her clothes. She found a pair of jeans and tugged them on, pulled a t-shirt over her head and rummaged until she found a sweatshirt.  
  
Hermione sat on the end of the bed whilst she put on socks and her boots, and took her wand from under her pillow, sliding it up her sleeve. Taking the key from the dresser, she quietly left her room, creeping past her parents' door, and fled down the stairs, across the lobby and out into the night.  
  
She wandered aimlessly away from the hotel and quickly left behind the small village in which they were staying. There were woods on either side of her, and Hermione veered off the path into the trees. The only reason she hadn't refused to go to Romania with her parents was because she would be able to pick fresh ingredients for potions and Herbology for herself.  
  
Without knowing how, she found herself in a small clearing where the trees formed a roof which blocked out the starlight. She shivered and drew her wand out of her sleeve, fancying she could hear sounds around her that she didn't like. "Lumos," she whispered, a dim light flared at her wand tip, and Hermione gasped as it illuminated the circle of wolves surrounding her.  
  
She drew a slow deep breath, trying not to panic, and carefully retreated until she felt the hard wood of a tree against her back. Two more wolves appeared on either side of her and she whimpered as the leader of the pack drew nearer, its body low to the ground, ready to attack. She screwed her eyes shut, not wanting the last thing she ever saw to be the teeth that would rip her throat out. She felt hot feral breath in her face, and shrank further into the tree. The wolf in front of her growled and leapt, and Hermione raised her hands to protect herself.  
  
There was a rush of wind, a loud crack, and a terrified yelp of pain. Suddenly the background orchestra of snarling died, and the night was silent again. She drew a breath and forced herself to look. The clearing was empty of wolves, and she sank to her knees, sobbing with relief.  
  
"It's not safe to be out here alone." Hermione whipped her head up at the sound of the voice, her hand flying to her wand which lay tangled in the tree roots. "Lumos!" Her voice shook as much as her hand and she raised the light. The feeble glimmer accentuated the shadows, and Hermione looked around for the speaker. "Where are you?" She demanded, and a shadow appeared from behind tree. It was a boy; she gripped her wand tighter. "Who are you?" The boy smiled and Hermione felt her stomach flip-flop with excitement. He was gorgeous; a lean hard body, flawless face, black hair that fell into his eyes which were a piercing glacial blue and made her quiver.  
  
"Nicholai Dimitri Vlad Dracul. Call me Nicholai. I heard the wolves..." Hermione got her feet and stared at him warily. She shivered with cold; the night air had become cool, the sky filling with rain clouds. "Here," Nicholai offered her his jacket, and she took in cautiously, taking in his scent as she pulled in on. He smelled wild and dangerous, like the wind and night. A wolf howled to their left and Hermione drew nearer to him. "Maybe we should get out of here," he suggested, leading her out of the clearing.  
  
She watched him as they walked, noting the way he moved; like a predator on the hunt, each footfall barely making a sound or leaving a trace of his presence. In the pit of her stomach, she knew where he was leading her, and she wasn't disappointed when the trees opened out and the moon lit up the crumbling walls of castle Dracula. Nicholai helped her down the steep slope of the empty moat and down the dry bed until they reached a large hole in the wall. He ducked and stepped through, and Hermione followed him.  
  
She found herself in a torch-lit room with dry stone walls, a stone floor, and a large bed in the middle. Nicholai gestured for her to sit and she perched on the edge of the bed, her feet barely touching the floor. "Why were you out there alone?" He asked, settling on the floor opposite her, his back resting against the wall, long legs stretched out in front of him.  
  
Hermione hesitated. "I'm a witch," she hesitated, "and I was looking for ingredients for potions lessons." Nicholai flashed a smile and she caught sight of fangs. "So you're a vampire?" She shifted position on the bed, ready to run, and he smiled even wider, his pointed teeth catching the torchlight. "Are you..." she paused. "Are you the real Dracula?" Nicholai tilted his head back and laughed, and Hermione was struck once again by how gorgeous he was. "I'm a Dracula. The notorious Dracula of legend was my father, but I was the first vampire. I made him, not him me."  
  
He stood up and sat next to her. "Are you afraid of me?" He whispered, stroking her cheek. Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm more afraid of myself right now," she breathed, leaning into his open arms. She looked at his face, at the indent of his fangs against his lower lip as his mouth met hers. The kiss was hot and passionate, Nicholai's hands roamed over her body, making her skin tingle. She allowed him to lean her back, his fingers tracing the outline of her ribs beneath her t-shirt, his tongue brushing against hers. He kissed the curve of her jaw, across her throat...  
  
Hermione turned her head away, sitting up quickly. "I should go," she said breathlessly, "my parent's will be missing me." "I'll walk you to the edge of the woods." He volunteered, taking her hand. They were silent until they reached the edge of the trees, and Nicholai pointed to a faint light in the distance. "Follow the road and you can't miss the village." Hermione nodded and began to walk away, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into an embrace. "Come back tomorrow night," he whispered, "there's something I want to show you." "I..." Hermione looked around wildly. Nicholai kissed her quickly, sending her pulse racing. "Promise me." He kissed her again and she nodded. "I promise," she breathed.  
  
He released her and she turned and ran. When she stopped to look back at the place he had been, he was gone. She took a deep breath and ran, not stopping until she was in her room again. As she undressed and flung herself on to the bed she wondered why she had promised to see him again. It was insane! He was a vampire! Even as she thought of it her lips curved in a smile. She closed her eyes and felt a guilty thrill of excitement skitter through her at the thought of seeing him tomorrow night.  
  
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Hermione slept late, and went to the dining room for the end of lunch. Her mother told her that they were going on a tour of the art museum that afternoon, and that she could go with them, or if she had homework to do, she should stay. Hermione sighed. "I've got three books to read and two essays to write, so I should stay." She shrugged, slightly apologetic. Alice Granger nodded, "you could go and sit in the sunshine and do your work," she suggested. "Well, we'd best go get ready." Her father said, getting to his feet. "Have a nice day sweetheart." He kissed Hermione on the cheek, took his wife's hand, and they left the dining room together.  
  
Hermione grabbed an apple and a banana from the fruit bowl, and went back up to her room. Instead of doing homework like she had told her parents she would be, she spent all afternoon choosing an outfit for her meeting with Nicholai. Having decided what to wear, she took a long bath, and by the time she got out it was dark. She dried her hair, then sat and painted her nails. She heard her parents come back; her mother's voice carried through the door saying something about checking up on her, but her father replied that she was old enough to look after herself and to leave her. The second she heard her mother parents' door close Hermione began to dress. She pulled her Hogwarts cloak on over the short black dress she wore, slipped her feet into black trainers and crept from the hotel. She ran until she reached the edge of the wood, paused to take a deep breath, then stepped into the darkness of the trees.  
  
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Hermione followed the path that Nicholai had led her out on and soon found herself outside the castle. She slipped in through the hole in the wall and found him with his back to her with no shirt on. The old Hermione would have blushed and turned away, but instead she ran her fingers down his back and when he turned she kissed him. "I was just getting ready for you." Nicholai said, gesturing for her to sit on the bed while he finished dressing. He pulled a black shirt on and paused, looking at her wonderingly. "I didn't think you'd come back." He kissed her again, taking her hand and leading her out through the wall. "Where are we going?" Hermione asked nervously, questioning her actions for the first time. I must be insane, she thought, he's going to kill me, and it'll be my own fault. "There's something I want to show you." He glanced over his shoulder at her and Hermione felt herself melting as she followed him through the trees.  
  
After a short walk, Nicholai stopped and turned to her. "Close your eyes." He said softly, and when she hesitated he stroked her cheek. "I won't hurt you, I promise." Hermione took a breath to steady her racing pulse, closed her eyes, and allowed Nicholai to guide her. "Ok, you can look." She opened her eyes, looked around, and her breath caught in her throat. They were in a small clearing, and growing beneath the moonlight were silver roses. "It's beautiful," she whispered, reaching out and touching one.  
  
"You're beautiful," Nicholai told her, taking her hand and kissing her. "When I heard the wolves I thought it was just a stupid lost tourist. Then I saw you, and I wanted you to be mine." Hermione smiled and looked into his eyes. "I don't know why I came back," she confessed, "I half thought you'd hypnotised me. I've just realised I'm completely in lust. I want you, I don't care what happens."  
  
He unfastened her cloak and placed it on the ground, laying her down on top of it. "Nice dress," he murmured, kneeling astride her legs, his mouth meeting hers. Hermione turned her head, breaking the kiss. "What's wrong? Nicholai asked as she pushed him to kneel up. "Nothing," she assured him, undoing his shirt and throwing it aside. She kissed his chest and ran her nails lightly down his back. Nicholai shuddered and pulled her to sit between his legs. His fingers caressed her thighs as he found the bottom of her dress and lifted it over her head. He held her arms above her head as he lay her back down, and took a second to admire her naked form in the moonlight.  
  
"You're so beautiful," he whispered as he kissed her, stroking the curve of her breast, her stomach, her waist, her hips. He lowered his head and licked her collarbone, raining tantalising kisses across her chest. Hermione moaned as he pressed his groin into hers and she felt his hardness against her own desire. She put a hand on his chest, Nicholai sat up slightly and she fumbled with his trousers, managing to get them undone. Then they were gone and he was exposed to her, throbbing with lust. She reached out to touch him and he brushed her hand aside. "I want you," he told her, "I want you to be mine now and forever. We can be together, young, powerful and beautiful for all eternity."  
  
Hermione shivered, his words swimming in her head. She didn't know what was wrong with her but it sounded so enticing... "Please," she begged, pulling his body against hers. "I want, I need..." Nicholai tilted his head back and his fangs flashed in the light. He entered her and she let out a moan of pleasure. "Take me." She whispered. His lips were warm against her throat, and though she expected pain there was none. He tapped into her veins, drinking her blood and she was in ecstasy. Her hands gripped his shoulders as he moved against her, filling her with his passion, filling himself with her blood.  
  
So pleasurable was the feeling of his mouth at her throat that she moaned as he pulled away, and she watched, fascinated, as Nicholai ran a nail along his own throat, slicing into the flesh, and crimson blood welled up. Hermione licked her lips and pulled him to her; his blood didn't taste like blood at all, but was rich and heady, like mulled wine at Christmas. As she drank, she became aware that he was still moving against her and her body was still responding; she tensed beneath him, her skin tingling as she reached her climax. She pulled her head back, her throat burning as she swallowed the last of his blood, and Nicholai climaxed himself.  
  
He lay beside her, sweaty and panting, and Hermione closed her eyes, feeling dizzy. She felt him lace his fingers through hers, and his mouth on the back of her hand as he kissed it, but she felt nothing else. No cold, no fear, no panic.  
  
Beneath the moonlight, in a clearing where silver roses grew, she died. 


	5. Chapter 5

I don't own anything etc etc, all belongs to J.K. Rowling except Nicholai, who is my own take on Dracula (he's supposed to be Dracula's son, I don't know if that came across well.) Thanks for all the great reviews. Please R&R!  
  
Normal time  
  
Harry and Ron stared at Hermione in silence, both looking stunned and unsure. "Well?" Hermione asked expectantly. "Aren't you going to say something?" Ron opened his mouth then shook his head. "Don't know." She looked at Harry. "Does Professor Dumbledore know?" He managed eventually, and Hermione laughed. "Of course he does! You think I'd be here without his permission? I may be a vampire Harry, but I'm not a monster."  
  
Moonlight shone in through the window, bathing her in silver, and to Harry she looked like a fallen angel. He scowled at the thought, knowing he wanted her despite what she was. "Funny," he spat, "that's what we've been lead to believe vampires are. Yet here you are, queen of the damned, living it up at Hogwarts you're some kind of..." he trailed off and shook his head.  
  
Hermione leaned against one of the bedposts and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry Harry," she began, her voice dangerously soft. "I'm not perfect. Something was so tempting I couldn't help but give in to darkness." She glared at Ron, "are you condemning me too?" Ron got off his bed and moving slowly toward her. "I think it's kind of cool actually. I mean, you won't have to do lessons any more." Hermione pulled a face. "Not true. I can still go to Potions and I get evening classes of everything else."  
  
"How are you going to explain it to everyone Hermione?" Harry enquired and she flashed a pointy smile. "I don't have to. Professor Dumbledore is to become my secret keeper. The only people who will know are you, the teachers and those Dumbledore or I tell." Ron cleared his throat and looked at her fearfully. "What about blood?" he croaked. "I'll hunt in the forest." She shrugged. "Not much else to worry about really." "Except where you're going to live," Harry interjected and Hermione smiled at him. "You're not missing a thing, are you? Professor Dumbledore said you'd figure it out, though he thought it would take you longer."  
  
Harry nodded, secretly flattered, and repeated his question. "I've got a room in the dungeons. One of the ones no-one knows what it's used for." Hermione whipped her head up, looking at the door. "Someone's coming," she whispered, "time for me to go." She slipped off Harry's bed, went to the window and opened it wide. "Do you know why I came back Harry?" She asked, her eyes flashing like gold in sunlight as she looked at him. He shook his head and she looked sad. "I came back to protect you. Normal vampires may be vicious killers," she broke off as someone tried the handle, then began to bang on the door. "I'm different." "How?" He asked as the door began to buckle.  
  
"I'm royalty," she breathed, kissing him on the cheek. Then she jumped out of the window. The door crashed open a second later. Seamus stood looking confused. "What happened?" He asked, taking in Harry's look of amazement and Ron's look of horror. "The door must have stuck," Harry murmured, closing the window. He rubbed his cheek where she had kissed him. The two boys got ready for bed, both too stunned to speak.  
  
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Hermione sat on the roof of the tallest tower, looking out over the forbidden forest, and thinking. Her parents hadn't taken the news very well...  
  
Flashback  
  
She opened her eyes and it was still dark. She shook herself, sitting, and found that she was lying on the bed in Nicholai's crypt, dressed in one of his shirts. There were no torches lit, but as her head cleared, her vision became more and more acute until she could see as well as if it were day. She was alone, but even as she thought it, Nicholai appeared through the hole in the wall, and smiled on seeing that she was awake. "How are you feeling?" He asked, sitting beside her. He gently forced her mouth open, inspecting her teeth, and Hermione trembled as he poked one of them.  
  
"I feel ok." She said softly, and her voice sounded different, even to her own ears; musical but with a cold sharpness just on the edge of hearing. She raised a hand and touched her mouth, suddenly aware of the indent of her fangs against her lip. Nicholai was watching her intently, his brow furrowed in thought.  
  
"How long was I..." she trailed off, frowning as distant memories came back to her. "How long was I dead?" "Two days. You turned quicker than anyone I've met before, but I suppose there's already magic in your blood. Which wizarding family are you from?" Hermione laughed and stretched, feeling muscles she had never had before flex and strain beneath her skin, which felt as soft as a rose petal. "I'm muggle born." She confessed and he looked surprised. "Really? That is interesting." He kissed her, standing, and went to an alcove in the corner that was covered by a black drape. "I could feel your power when I met you, and I assumed..." He shrugged, throwing her a pair of jeans and some shoes. "I got these from your hotel." He explained, seeing her look.  
  
Hermione gasped. "My parents!" She exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "What do my parents think?" Nicholai waved a hand dismissively. "I left a note on their door saying you'd gone to do research for a school project." "Oh." She pulled her jeans on and staggered as she stood. Black spots danced in front of her eyes and next thing she knew Nicholai was holding her up. "What?" She clutched at him, confused and frightened.  
  
"You need blood." He steadied her so she could pull her trainers on, then he took her arm and lead her out into the night. Hermione felt better immediately, and tilted her head to sniff the air. The night was full of exciting new smells. "Where are we going?" she asked, looking around in wonder as she followed Nicholai up the bank. "The forest. You need blood soon, or you'll crash and burn." He grabbed her hand and pulled her insistently into the forest.  
  
They were barely beyond the edge of the trees when she stumbled, her head spinning. Nicholai sat her beneath a tree. "Stay here," he commanded, "don't move." She couldn't see, she was blind. I'm dying, she thought, and part of her cackled madly. You're already dead, it laughed. She flopped against the tree, her chest was burning and she began to panic There was a sound to her left, and she turned towards it, though she had no awareness of her movement. Nicholai knelt beside her, a deer in his arms, and Hermione moved instinctively. She sank her teeth into the animal's neck and warm blood was flowing down her throat, reviving and invigorating her.  
  
She lifted her head, panting, and licked her lips. "Wow," she whispered, feeling her body pulse with energy. "Wow." Nicholai helped her to her feet, and Hermione looked up at him with shining eyes. "Is it like that every time?" He shook his head. "It's better with human blood and exquisite when combined with sex." He smiled wryly and kissed her. "What else can we do?" She asked, stretching languorously. "You want to know the power you have? Yours is greater than the common vampire, because your blood is pure blood, royal blood." He backed her against a tree, kissing her, and slid his hands up under her shirt. "Strength, speed, agility, power over the minds of lesser creatures, clairvoyance, flight, and, of course, your wonderful sexiness."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and slipped from his grasp. "I bet you say that to all the girls," she quipped and he shrugged. She kissed him and began to walk away. "Are you coming?" she asked over her shoulder, and he followed. "Where are we going?" "To tell my parents I'm dead," she sighed, "and to figure out how I'm going to get back to Britain avoiding sunlight." Nicholai stopped dead. "You're going back to Britain?"  
  
Hermione turned and was struck by the look of hurt on her lover's face. "Nicholai, how can I stay? My friends, my life... it's back in Britain." He nodded, avoiding her gaze. "Of course. It's just I thought you wanted to be with me. That's why I made you, so we could be together." Hermione laughed, hardly believing what she was hearing. "You barely know me!" she exclaimed. "We got absorbed in the heat of the moment, and it was great." She held her arms wide, "I feel great! I've never felt so free." She walked up to him, stroking his cheek softly. "I can't stay here."  
  
Nicholai nodded, smiling ruefully. "Of course you can't. What was I thinking?" He paused, wrapping his arms around her. "Can I visit you though?" He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Any time," she assured him. "You'll always be welcome." She snuggled in his embrace for a moment, then pulled back and sighed again. "I'd best see my parents." She interlaced her fingers with his and headed towards the hotel.  
  
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"You're what?" Alice Granger stared at her daughter blankly, not taking in what she had just been told. "What did she say Phillip?" Hermione's father swallowed, cleared his throat and shook his head. "Hermione, why would you do this?" Hermione was sat on one end of the bed in her room, her parents at the other. Nicholai hovered by the window, nervous about being in town where people might recognise him.  
  
"Do what!" Hermione demanded petulantly. "You make it sound like I've gone and got my tongue pierced, or had a tattoo!" she shrugged. "I don't know what to say." She looked at her mother, waiting for the news to sink in. Alice raised her head and met her gaze. "You're a monster," she whispered, and Hermione flinched. "A witch I could cope with, it could be useful, I thought, having a witch in the family. And your friends, they're lovely. But a vampire..." she spat out the word like it would make her choke. "You're a killing machine."  
  
Nicholai cleared his throat and waved at Hermione's parents. "Excuse me. I'm not a killer." He stood tall, arms folded across his chest, looking every bit the prince he was. "You killed our daughter!" Phillip Granger bellowed, and suddenly his wife fainted. Hermione leapt to her feet, dashed into the bathroom, and returned with a cold flannel and a cup of water. She sat beside her mother and dabbed at her forehead, but her father pushed her away. "Get away from her!" he roared, and she staggered backwards, stunned.  
  
"We know about vampires," he said, his voice shaking as he tried to suppress the tumultuous ocean of emotions swelling within him. "We read about them in one of your school books. Dangerous monsters it called them." "Daddy, what are you saying?" "I'm saying, go. Leave now and never seek us again." Hermione stood straight, her eyes cold, her mouth set. "Fine." She strode past him, reached under the bed and pulled out her suitcase. "I'll stop at the house for my school stuff while you're at work." She snapped, and her father ignored her, lifting his unconscious wife and carrying her from the room.  
  
Hermione looked at the door and it slammed shut by itself. She felt Nicholai step behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, and she turned and buried her head in his chest, sobbing. She cried for a few minutes, then shook herself and began throwing things into her case. Ten minutes later she had handed her key in to reception, collected her passport from the safe, and met Nicholai outside. It was the last time she saw her parents.  
  
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Hermione got up from her position on the roof and stretched, sniffing the air. There was still an hour before dawn, and she felt like walking in the forest before being confined to the castle all day. With a last fleeting thought about her parents, she stepped off the edge of the roof, plummeting towards the ground. She landed on her feet, and strode off into the forbidden forest. 


	6. Chapter 6

Usual disclaimer lark – I don't own any of the characters contained within etc etc. Sorry it's been so long since I last updated but I've been busy with my first year at uni and now I'm about to sit my first year exams! Eeek! Anyway, once they're over and done with I'll be back on the ball (I know everything that's going to happen in this fic, it's all planned out!) A quick note relating to the movie that's just come out: Emma Watson will never look like my Hermione is supposed to, and my Draco Malfoy looks more like Alex Band (from the music group The Calling) than Tom Felton. Also, this story does have a plot, but at the moment it's mostly intermingled with Hermione getting sex and blood (for a good reason which will be revealed later!) Please leave a review to tell me what you think.  
  
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As September turned into October, the days became shorter, and Hermione made more frequent appearances at breakfast and dinner in the Great Hall. Although they had been at Hogwarts for a month, neither Harry or Ron had seen Hermione's room, nor seen any sign that she was different apart from the fangs. What they had seen was everyone else treat her the same as before; no-one commented on her absence in lessons, or from lunch, and no-one else seemed to notice her teeth.  
  
They were in Potions, and Harry had just completed his truth serum and was handing it to Professor Snape for assessment. Hermione had got a sneered "well done Miss Granger,' and her truth serum had been perfect, so he didn't have much hope that he would get better.  
  
The bell rang, signalling the end of the day and time for dinner and Ron lead the way out of the classroom. "Are you coming up with us Hermione?" He asked, and she shook her head. "I need to go out." She shuddered, the colour draining from her face. "I'll see you after dinner." She murmured and rushed past them, racing up the stairs.  
  
Hermione ran through the castle and out through the main doors. She felt momentary relief as the night air hit her, then sprinted desperately towards the forest. As she reached the trees she calmed down, ignoring the pain in her body, shutting down her conscious mind and slipping into hunting mode. She crouched low to the ground, sniffing the air, and leapt into a tree branch hanging over her head. A light breeze ruffled the leaves and she caught the scent of her prey, deep in the heart of the forest.  
  
Hermione grinned hungrily, a sight that would give children nightmares, and sprang from the branch, somersaulting in the air and landing on her feet. She darted through the trees, not once stumbling or falling on tree roots or bushes that blocked her way, and she soared gracefully over a fallen tree stump and skidded to a halt, fallen leaves spraying up around her. She raised her head, looking about in the dim light that filtered in through the foliage above her head, and smiled.  
  
Ten minutes later she was heading out of the forest, pleasantly sated with a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She was but a hundred meters from the edge of the forest when there was a loud rustling to her left, and a centaur stepped out in front of her. Her smile widened; it was Bane. She remembered his reaction at their last encounter, the night they had brought Umbridge into the forest, how he had wanted to kill them.  
  
"Hello Bane," she purred and he looked furious. "We know what you do in our forest," the dark centaur kicked his back legs in anger, his face contorted with disgust and hatred. "Your forest?" Hermione tipped her head back and laughed, long and loud. "Vampires are not welcome here!" Bane roared, and Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "I think you'll find," she began evenly, making her voice soft and sweet and almost painful to listen to, "that I am more welcome in this forest than you are."  
  
The centaur shook his head violently, trying to shake off her influence, feeling that she was inside his head. "What devilment is this?" He demanded, rearing up on his hind legs and kicking at her. Hermione didn't flinch. "It is a demonstration of power." She stepped forward, commanding him to be still, and against his will Bane found that he obeyed. Hermione ran her fingers through his shaggy hair and along the smooth expanse of his back. "You will tolerate me." She said softly, moving away from him. "You will go about your business and I will go about mine. Do you understand?" Bane pawed the ground nervously, confused. "Do you understand?" she repeated dangerously. The centaur nodded reluctantly and Hermione snapped her fingers, breaking her hold on him. "Who's more powerful now?" She laughed as he reared and retreated, galloping deeper into the forest. She crossed the vast lawn to the castle humming softly to herself. She felt fantastic, completely elated and ready for some fun.  
  
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Instead of going straight to the Gryffindor common room, she headed down into the dungeons, towards her own room, running over the scene with Bane in her mind. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she turned a corner and walked straight into someone, sending them flying while she remained on her feet. She giggled as Pansy Parkinson struggled to her feet, looking furious. "Watch where you're walking, you filthy clumsy mudblood."  
  
Hermione laughed again, her tongue flicking over a fang that Pansy couldn't see. Pansy flushed scarlet, balling her hands into fists, she advanced on Hermione with a dangerous gleam in her eye, raising a hand to slap her, and Hermione caught the other girl's wrist in an iron grip and, despite the fact that Pansy was three inches taller and a good deal heavier, pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her by the throat. Pansy's eyes widened in fear and desperation as she slowly began to choke. "Don't cross me Pansy," Hermione hissed, her eyes blazing pools of molten gold. "You might not live to regret it."  
  
She released Pansy as she caught the sound of approaching footsteps, and the Slytherin girl clutched at her throat, panting and moaning as she struggled to catch her breath. "Draco!" She cried, throwing herself on Malfoy as he rounded the corner and came across them. "Granger tried to kill me!" She shrieked hysterically, cuddling up to him. Malfoy brushed her off and approached Hermione, who was leaning casually against the wall looking pleased with herself. "Go back to the common room Pansy." Malfoy said coldly, glancing over his shoulder at her as he spoke. "I'll deal with this." Pansy looked disappointed, but a triumphant sneer crossed her face as she looked at Hermione. "You're going to get it now!" She crowed, and traipsed off down the corridor and out of sight.  
  
"Oh no, what are you going to do to me Malfoy?" Hermione asked in mock horror, grinning confidently all the time. Malfoy stepped towards her cautiously, moving like a predator, and Hermione was suddenly struck by how attractive he was. He was no longer the short skinny boy who had taunted her with 'mudblood' since their second year, he had bulked out over the summer and now he towered over her, his body lithe and lightly muscled. He no longer wore his white blonde hair slicked back so that he looked like a ferret, but had grown it so that it fell around his eyes, which looked silver in the dim light of corridor.  
  
"What are you doing down here Granger?" He asked coldly, standing tall and Hermione's smile widened. "You didn't call me mudblood." She pointed out and he scowled. "Don't flatter yourself into thinking it's because I hold you in high regard." He paused, tilting his head as he looked her up and down. "You've changed Granger. I can't put my finger on what it is, but calling you mudblood doesn't feel right anymore. And, I'll deny it if you tell anyone I said that." Ah, there was the Malfoy she knew, Hermione thought as she reached for his hand. "Do you want to put your finger on what's changed?" She asked him, placing his hand on her cheek. Malfoy frowned but didn't withdraw it.  
  
"Tell me." He growled and Hermione opened her mouth and guided his fingers to the point of her fang. She quivered with desire as he stroked it, his eyes widening with dawning comprehension. "You're..." He frowned again. "Even that idiot Dumbledore wouldn't be stupid enough to let one of them in! How can he... how he could he not know that..." He paused, suddenly looking apprehensive as he realised what he was alone with. "You're a vampire," he finished quietly, seeing her true face for the first time. She looked at him expectantly, her fangs just touching her lower lip. "Dumbledore knows," she purred and he took a deep breath. "When did it happen?"  
  
Hermione laughed and he scowled again. She hadn't expected curiosity from Malfoy. "Over the summer, on my holiday in Romania. I met a boy who whispered sweet death in my ear as he made love to me, and the promise of darkness was too enticing to ignore. You should know something about that..." She finished pointedly and Malfoy stared at her open mouthed. "You had sex?" He sounded completely dumbfounded. "Well there goes my bet with Pansy," he muttered darkly, and Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What bet?" She demanded, and Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. "Well, she reckoned you're getting porked by either Potter or the Weasel, and I argued that I thought you were frigid..." He ended the sentence quietly, slowly backing away.  
  
Hermione grinned sharply, catching hold of his arm and firmly pulling him closer. "I'm not frigid," she put a hand on his chest, her nails scratching his chest lightly through the material of his shirt. "Kiss me," she commanded, tilting her head back slightly, looking up into his face. Malfoy lowered his mouth to hers, his lips soft and tentative, and Hermione opened her mouth to allow his probing tongue entry. His hands went around her waist, pulling her even closer against him, and she held his shoulders, her chest pressed against his.  
  
She opened her eyes to see that he had his closed, a look of total innocence on a face she had always associated with evil. She pulled out of the kiss, a smile tugging at her lips, and grabbed his hand, heading down the corridor. "Where are you going?" he asked as she dragged him in the direction of the Slytherin common room. She let go of his hand and pressed her back against the wall, looking at him with shining amber eyes. She beckoned him to come closer, one arm around his neck, the other touching the wall behind her. "Patefacio," Hermione incanted as their lips met, and she stepped backwards through the wall, pulling him with her.  
  
Malfoy pulled back and looked around in surprise. "Welcome to my world."  
  
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Harry looked up nervously as the portrait hole opened, and a blonde third- year girl climbed in. Every time it opened he expected it to be Hermione. He couldn't quite put into words how he felt about her transformation, but if forced to, he would have said that he missed her, which was absurd, because she was with him and Ron as many hours as she possibly could be.  
  
She was there at breakfast, and during potions which they had all taken as a N.E.W.Ts option, despite grumbling from Professor Snape; she was there at dinner in the evening, and with them until they went to bed. As he thought about it, Harry realised he hadn't once seen her go to a single one of the night classes she was supposed to be doing.  
  
He poked Ron, who was staring sleepily into the fire, and shook himself, blinking dopily. "What? Did you say something?" Harry smiled at his friends' confusion and shook his head. "I was just wondering if you'd seen Hermione go to any of her night classes." Ron closed his eyes as he thought, stifling a yawn, and eventually shook his head, stretching lethargically.  
  
"I've only ever seen her in potions." He frowned. "She spends all night with us or..." he moved closer to Harry so they wouldn't be overheard, glancing around to make sure no-one was too near them. "Or out in the Forest hunting." He sat back in his chair with a shrug and rubbed his eyes like a sleepy four year old.  
  
"I don't know Harry, since she came back, she feels..." he shrugged again, feeling stupid. "She feels gone." "It feels like she didn't really come back to us," Harry whispered, and Ron paled and nodded. "That's the one. Like she's not really here anymore, she's just a ghost." Harry suddenly found that he was fighting back tears. "She's not our Hermione any more." The expression on Ron's face echoed his sentiments. Despite the warmth of the fire they both shuddered.  
  
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Malfoy took in his surroundings, and Hermione watched him looking almost nervous. The walls and floor were cold black marble laced with veins of gold which sparkled in the flickering candlelight. There was a tall ebony wardrobe in the corner behind the door, a strange three sided affair which seemed to extend through the wall, and when Malfoy opened it he found that was exactly what it did. There was a corner desk and chair, and also a corner chest of drawers, and the focal point of the room was the bed, which was huge and, interestingly, sunk into the cool marble floor.  
  
"So?" She asked eventually, and he looked at the bed again, which was made up with black silk sheets and covered with pillows and cushions. "Nice... bed," he ventured, and Hermione smiled slightly. "It'll be even better when you're in it," she approached him and kissed him again, her arms snaking up around his neck.  
  
He parted his lips and thrust his tongue into her mouth, and involuntarily tightened his grip on her when she sucked it vigorously Hermione pushed him back on the bed and knelt over him, her hair falling about her face in wild disarray. Malfoy grabbed by the waist and pulled her to straddle him, sitting up to kiss her, his fingers skimmed over her breasts as he began to undo the buttons of her shirt. Hermione pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside, and she knelt up compliantly as he tugged her skirt off. She wasn't wearing any underwear.  
  
Malfoy pulled her to sit astride him again and rolled sideways so that she was beneath him. He studied her where she lay, nestled naked among the pillows and cushions, her pale skin contrasting against the darkness of the sheets. With her eyes closed, and her lashes casting shadows across her sculptured cheekbones, Malfoy thought she looked like a marble angel he had once seen carved in a church in Italy. Then her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes, and he saw the way the light was reflected there, and was remained of what she was.  
  
Hermione grinned at seeing him kneeling there with a look of awe on his face. "What are you waiting for?" she asked provocatively, and he leant down to kissed her roughly, before sitting back and yanking his robes off hurriedly. She ripped his shirt off, not even pausing to undo the buttons, and ran her hands down his toned chest and stomach. She ran her tongue up along the same path and attacked his mouth hungrily, even as her fingers undid the buckle of his belt and moved on to the buttons of his trousers.  
  
Malfoy stood up and kicked his trousers off, and Hermione found herself staring as he stood before her in just a pair of green silk boxer shorts. She put her hands to his hips and slid his underwear down, her eyes widening as the extent of his desire for her was exposed. She ducked her head to lick the tip of him and Malfoy pulled back hastily, remembering the length of her fangs.  
  
She smiled and lay back, and he knelt between her legs, bending over to ravish her mouth once more. Hermione gasped as he entered her, breaking the kiss, and his lips rained kisses along her jaw-line and across her throat, his fingertips caressing her waist and hips as he held her. She captured his mouth with hers again and sucked his tongue desperately as the urge to bite, to feed rose within her. She wrenched her mouth from his, arching against him as she tilted her head back, panting with bloodlust.  
  
He pressed his lips to her exposed throat, licking a little, and she let out a keening wail. "I know what you want," he muttered torturing her with his tongue. "Do it." Hermione clutched at his shoulders as she met his gaze, his cool grey eyes shimmering like molten silver as they reflected his lust. She gently kissed his lips, and licked her way down to the base of his throat where she could feel the blood racing beneath the surface of his skin. She bit down, her fangs piercing the delicate barrier between her and blood, and Malfoy moaned, shifting against her.  
  
Warm delicious life flowed into her mouth and she swallowed, feeling liquid fire drip down her throat. She took two mouthfuls, three, four and drew her mouth away as she reached her climax, feeling him clench inside her as he reached his.  
  
He dropped beside her, cautiously reaching for his throat, and Hermione held his hand away, biting her finger and letting a drop of blood drip onto the wound. She let his hand go and he felt for a mark, looking at her in amazement when there was none. He grinned at her, panting, and shook his head, closing his eyes. She leaned heavily against him, her head swirling as his warm blood rushed through her body, warming her through. His blood was twice as good as animal blood, and in that moment she knew she would never feed upon another animal again as long as there were still humans in the world.  
  
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Please review!!!!!!!! 


	7. Chapter 7

If anyone is actually following this fic, sorry it's taken so long to get the next chapter out. Now I know where the plot is going! I've got to do the usual disclaimer stuff: I do not own Harry Potter or all related and affiliated trademarks etc etc blah blah. If you do read this, please leave a review to let me know I didn't waste months working on it!

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Draco Malfoy stirred from sleep and opened his eyes, wondering for a fraction of a second where he was. He was lying on his side on a bed at floor level, in a darkened room lit only a soft glow emanating from the walls. This definitely wasn't his room. Nor was it Pansy's room, in whose bed he had often spent the night.

As he rolled onto his back the events of the night came flooding back to him, and he turned his head to stare at the figure lying beside him.

Hermione Granger lay on her side facing away from him, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders and falling in silken pools on the pillow beneath her head. She was naked, and her skin looked as flawless and cold as alabaster, as though she had been carved out of marble.

Her body was still and unmoved by breath and, half fearfully, he reached out a hand and stroked her side. She was cool, lukewarm perhaps, and Malfoy felt as though he had dipped his hand into a bath of tepid water.

As Hermione stirred and turned to face him, her eyes were wide and clear, alert and fresh and unbefuddled by sleep or confusion, and Malfoy immediately knew she no longer had the problem of remembering who and where she was when she woke up.

She ran a finger along his jaw line and already he felt that her skin was warmer.

Malfoy stretched feeling his muscles groan in protest, and he grinned. It had been a good night.

"You're an animal!" He exclaimed and Hermione chuckled.

She watched him, intrigued by this Draco Malfoy whom she had never met before, the Draco Malfoy who smiled not smirked, who laughed not sneered, and who feared and respected and was in awe of her.

She liked the power. And she liked him.

She leaned in and kissed him, her tongue touching his for a tantalising second before she pulled away and sat up. She stretched, feeling his eyes on her naked body, and smirked smugly to herself.

The sheets fell away as she stood and went to the wardrobe, taking a black silk kimono from inside and slipping it around her shoulders.

"Now," she began, turning to face him, her tone serious. "I can't let you leave without you swearing to keep my secret. The only way to ensure my safety is by having you commit yourself to silence and to me through a blood-tie ceremony."

Malfoy paled but nodded slowly. "I…" He took a deep breath, hesitating. "I will. Do what you have to. Just…" He paused, looking embarrassed, "just be gentle with me."

He quickly stood up and pulled on his trousers, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously.

Hermione crossed to the dresser and waved her hand, and a glass appeared beside a golden dagger. She picked them up and returned to the bed, sitting cross-legged next to him.

She passed the glass to him and he held it between them. She pressed the dagger to the palm of her left hand and jerked the blade quickly, slicing her skin.

Her blood trickled into the glass and Malfoy stared at her hand in revolted fascination as the cut healed and disappeared in seconds. He inhaled sharply as she handed him the dagger and took the glass.

"My blood," she intoned huskily.

"Your blood," he repeated shakily, pressing the blade against his own left palm. He screwed his eyes shut and Hermione suppressed a smile.

"It has to be of your own volition," she told him softly, and he nodded, breathing shallowly.

He let out a grunt and a small cry of pain as he raked the edge over his skin, and held his bleeding hand over the glass.

"Your blood," Hermione said, taking hold of his left arm by the wrist.

"My blood."

He watched as she lifted his hand to her mouth, biting her tongue with one of those razor fangs that he had almost forgotten about.

She ran her bloody tongue along his bloody gash, and Malfoy felt his hand tingle as the skin healed instantly, not leaving even the faintest trace of a scar.

Hermione held the glass in her left hand, and he wrapped his own around hers.

"Our blood," they whispered together, and Hermione put the glass to her lips and drank half of the crimson liquid.

Malfoy forced himself to swallow the rest, and closed his eyes as he felt it trickle down his throat.

Hermione finished the spell, incanting "now my blood is yours, and yours mine, we are bound to silence, to keep for all time."

She kissed him then, pressing herself against him and Malfoy grinned, untying the sash on her robe. She pulled his trousers off again, and taking him by the hand led him to a corner of the room.

She touched a section of the wall, and a door opened to reveal a shower set in an alcove. Hermione turned the tap on, and Malfoy backed her up against the wall beneath the spray, kissing her.

The coldness of the water did nothing to dampen his passion.

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Harry and Ron had saved a seat between them for Hermione at breakfast, but she didn't turn up.

"Well, it is a bit bright in the hall today," Ron ventured as they made their way to the first lesson of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Due to the reduced numbers of students studying Defence Against the Dark Arts at N.E.W.T. level, students from all four houses were mixed together.

Draco Malfoy sat on his desk at the front of the room talking quietly to Blaise Zabini, and he threw Harry a dark look as he and Ron entered.

Harry shrugged, sighing as he sat in his seat at the back of the classroom. Lessons weren't the same without Hermione there to nag them to take notes and pay attention.

"Hermione would have loved her," he whispered to Ron, indicating Professor Mobani, who stood proudly in front of the class, her emerald robes bringing out the green of her eyes. Her white hair swirled around her waist as she turned to watch a few stragglers hurry in and take their seats.

"Good morning everyone," she said, her smooth, lightly accented voice warm and reassuring. "If you would please take out your textbooks and turn to page 396. We will be having an information based lesson today, which I hope will follow with a practical lesson if possible." She paused as the class opened their books to the designated page.

Harry looked down at the title of the chapter and heaved in a deep breath. He glanced at Ron, who was absentmindedly chewing his thumb knuckle as he stared at the words before him.

VAMPIRES: SEPARATING THE FACTS FROM THE FICTION.

Professor Mobani caught Harry's eye and smiled slightly. "Before we start," she began, "who can tell me anything about vampires? Anything you know."

Dean Thomas slowly raised his hand, looking hesitant.

"Yes Mr Thomas?" Professor Mobani prompted, and he grinned nervously.

"They don't have reflections, do they Professor?"

Mobani smiled and nodded. "No they don't Mr Thomas." Mobani looked around the room, "Does anyone know why they don't have reflection?"

"Is it because they don't have a soul?" Ernie Macmillan ventured, and again their professor smiled and nodded.

"Five points to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor both."

"No soul?" Ron whispered to Harry, grinning, "So how come Malfoy's always looking in the mirror?" Harry smiled humourlessly and looked listlessly around the class, his eyes coming to rest on Malfoy just as professor Mobani asked:

"Mr Malfoy, do you know anything about vampires."

Harry swallowed, pushing the fact that Hermione didn't have a soul to the back of his mind, and focused his attention on his enemy, who would probably sell his soul to Voldemort for a smidgeon of power when they left school.

Malfoy had his elbows propped on his desk and was looking thoughtful. He spoke slowly and sounded as though he was picking his words carefully.

"It's a common misconception that vampires must sleep in a coffin on a bed of their native dirt." His eyes darted to Harry for a second and a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "They can sleep anywhere they want."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. What did Malfoy know?

Professor Mobani glanced at her watch. "Another good point from Mr Malfoy, five points to Slytherin as well. Much of what is commonly known about vampires is part myth, part truth. That they cannot cross running water, can transform into fogs and wolves and bats, and are repulsed by garlic and crosses are ridiculous inaccuracies. That they are killed by sunlight, a stake through the heart and beheading is correct. Stories and myths of vampires are common throughout the wizarding and the muggle world, and all but a few are false, mere fabrications of fantasy and fiction. The only thing that these tales have in common is that vampires must drink the blood of a living creature to survive." She paused for breath.

"Your assignment this term will be to write me a twenty thousand word essay on vampires in which you will separate the facts from the fictions. Many of your classes this year will consist of visits to the school library and the public library in Hogsmede village where you have permission to go to conduct your research. You will be assessed on your final essay, and also on the quality and originality of the content and scope of your research." She paused and looked around at the assembled students. "Are there any questions?"

A few hands waved in the air, among them Malfoy's.

Justin Finch-Fletchley asked if they could use muggle resources, if they were able to get hold of them, and the professor confirmed that yes, it was allowed and she would be greatly interested in the results. Malfoy's question came last and again the strange knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he asked it.

"Would we be allowed to talk to an actual vampire in the course of our research, if the occasion arose?"

Ron shot Harry a panicked glanced and Harry felt his pulse begin to pound in his throat. Malfoy knew something, he was sure of it. But how?

He wouldn't be able to guess, Dumbledore being Hermione's secret keeper prevented that, so unless Hermione had told him herself, which Harry very much doubted, he must have overheard them talking about it, about her.

Ron drew him out of his desperate chain of thought by punching him in the arm, and Harry scowled and looked up at Mobani, who was laughing in response to Malfoy's question.

"I don't know about talking to a vampire because they generally have other things in mind, like having you as their next meal, but your question brings me onto the topic of the lesson this time next week. Next week you will begin your research by studying an actual vampire."

There was a collective gasp and the class broke out in excited whispering.

Mobani help up her hands to silence them. "I assure you all that you will be perfectly safe, the vampire will be kept entirely under control and will be chained up. We will study the physical appearance of the vampire, and put to the test the most common points of vampire knowledge," she paused, looking around the room at their eager faces.

"This vampire is not to be harmed unless it poses a threat. It is not our duty to slay this creature, merely to study it."

She broke off as the bell rang and the students began to gather together their things. "Your homework is to begin your research. See you on Thursday."

Harry and Ron got to their feet and rushed to the door. "We have to find Hermione" Ron whispered urgently and Harry nodded.

"She's somewhere by the potions labs I think." Harry glanced at the Slytherins who were heading down the stairs towards their common room, and grabbed Ron by the arm.

"We'll wait five minutes, and then go. I don't want to run into Malfoy on Slytherin territory."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, rubbing his chin nervously with the back of his hand. He sighed and glanced at his watch. They had twenty minutes break and then had to get to Transfiguration. "We've got potions after lunch," he ventured, "We could wait until then."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more than usual. "I don't know, what if Malfoy gets to her?" He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, thinking hard.

"Let's just wait until potions." He said, picking his bag up off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder as he started down the corridor in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom. "I mean if we can't find her it's not likely Malfoy will be able to, is it?"

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Hermione groaned as Malfoy's teeth grazed against her earlobe. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled, guiding his lips back up to hers.

He lifted her skirt, trailing his fingertips across her creamy skin and she arched against him as he sat her on the edge of her desk and stood between her legs.

Her hands dropped to his belt and she pulled at the buckle impatiently, panting with desire.

Malfoy pushed her hands away and eased his zip down, and she grabbed him hungrily, pulling him deep inside herself.

He gripped her hips as he thrust into her, and her nails bit into his shoulders as she held him close and tight.

They continued their frantic efforts, building in passion until they both reached a climax, and Malfoy held her against his chest for a long while after.

Eventually Hermione lifted her head and looked up into his eyes. "You'd better go, you'll be late for your next class."

He nodded and rearranged his clothing. "Will I see you later?" He asked sweetly, and Hermione shook her head slowly.

"I don't think so. Harry and Ron will want to talk to me after Defence Against the Dark Arts. They'll want to know how you know, what you know."

He stiffened slightly, and leaned over her, his hands resting on the edge of the desk. "And what will you tell them?" He asked menacingly.

She smiled enigmatically. "No more than they need to know." She kissed him tenderly and pushed him away. "Go," she kissed him again and gave him another playful shove towards the door.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her and scowled, dashed across the room and kissed her fiercely, and then left hurriedly.

Hermione slid off the desk with a smile and a sigh, and slowly re-dressed. She kept stealing furtive glances at the door, hoping he would dash back for another kiss.

She sank onto the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling.

Whether she liked it or not, Hermione knew she would have to face the fact that she was, for the time being, completely smitten with Draco Malfoy.

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Hermione was already in the potions lab when Harry and Ron arrived after lunch, sat with her elbows resting on her desk looking bored.

She sat up and smiled when she saw them, and Harry and Ron sat on either side of her.

"How was Defence Against the Dark Arts?" She asked before Harry could tell her about Malfoy.

Ron frowned. "You know what the project is?"

Hermione flashed him a razor sharp grin. "Of course. I'm catching the vampire for your practical lesson. Of course you both have an unfair advantage over everyone else." She paused and glanced over her shoulder as a group of Slytherin's entered. "As does Malfoy."

Harry scowled. "He knows." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Hermione met his gaze and held it. "He knows." She shrugged. "Not much to say really."

Ron looked incensed, his face flushed red, his ears burning. "Why would you… why would you…? WHY?" He spluttered and a couple of people turned to look at them.

"Ron, keep your voice down," she hissed through gritted teeth. She glanced around, her eyes meeting Malfoy's, and she sighed. "I don't expect you to understand, and funnily I don't need your approval."

"I understand," Harry said softly. "I don't like it, but I understand. If you're happy…" he trailed off and looked at Malfoy, his face twisted in a grimace. He shrugged. "Let's just not talk about it."

Ron stood staring, his mouth hanging open stupidly.

"Sit down Ron," Harry muttered, and Ron stalked around to the desk next to Harry, away from Hermione.

"Ron," Hermione began softly, leaning across Harry's desk towards him, "I know you see this as a betrayal but it…"

"It what?" Ron ground out from between gritted teeth.

Hermione sat back in her seat as Snape entered, biting her tongue furiously. "Grow up Ron," she hissed vehemently, leaning back and folding her arms across her chest, "not everything is about you."

Ron's face coloured and he sat forward sharply, obviously about to snap back. Harry held his hands up pleadingly. "Guys, enough. Let's just get through potions."

Ron sat back with a huff, and Hermione growled, making a few people look around the room nervously.

Harry rubbed his temples and sighed.

The second potions ended Hermione flew out of the door behind the Slytherins, and as Harry and Ron left they saw her walking down the corridor talking to Malfoy.

Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle all watched dumbly as their leader went off with the mudblood muggle Gryffindor Granger bitch.

At least we aren't the only ones unhappy about this, Harry thought, as he and Ron headed down towards Transfiguration.

They worked their way through Professor McGonagall's assignment in silence, and once again Hermione's absence was glaringly obvious to them both.

"I'm so stupid!" Ron exclaimed as he and Harry packed their bags at the end of the lesson. "What did I have to go and argue with her for?"

Harry grimaced. "Ok, don't hate me for saying it Ron, but it could be because you're jealous." He drew back slightly as Ron looked at him.

Ron pulled a face and nodded, a barely perceptible inclination of the head. "Possibly," he conceded, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. He shrugged. "Won't do any good now."

He sighed and Harry punched him in the arm.

"Come on," he said, shouldering his own bag. "We'll go and find her and make it up."

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Malfoy appeared at dinner in the Great Hall without Crabbe and Goyle, which was unusual because most of the time he couldn't even go to the toilet without them following him.

He sat down and started eating, and Ron noticed that Pansy Parkinson was hissing vehemently at him over her steak and kidney pie, and Malfoy was blatantly ignoring her.

"What's happening?" Harry asked, his gaze drawn to the scene that Ron was watching rapturously.

"Malfoy and Parkinson are arguing, probably about the way he went off with Hermione after potions." He grimaced, wrinkling his nose with distaste. "What can she see in that jerk anyway? I mean he's smarmy and malignant and looks like a weasel!"

Lavender, who was sitting nearby, had caught the tail end of Ron's comments, and glanced at the Slytherin table, smiling faintly.

"Are you talking about Malfoy?"

Ron grunted in reply, nodding his head as he shovelled mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"In which case, he doesn't look like a weasel Ron. He's very handsome, gorgeous even, and one of the richest young wizards in Britain." She blushed and lowered her head, staring intently at the engravings on her water goblet.

"Anyway," she continued, "who cares what Parkinson sees in Malfoy? They've been betrothed since birth. A perfect 'pureblood' match between two powerful wizarding families."

Harry frowned, wondering if Hermione knew what she was getting herself involved in.

Pansy suddenly got of from the Slytherin table and fled the Great hall in tears.

Malfoy looked after her grimly, and his eyes met Harry's across the hall.

Neither of them wanted to be the first to look away, and would have remained locked in a battle of wills all night if Hermione hadn't suddenly sat down beside Harry, having almost appeared out of no-where.

"Come on Harry," she murmured, putting a hand on his arm. "We're supposed to be adults."

Ron's ears burned scarlet at that remark, and he looked up slowly. "I'm sorry Hermione," he said in a low voice. "I'm stupid, I…"

"Forget it Ron." She flashed him a warm smile, before looking over the table grimly. She helped herself to a portion of shepherds' pie and began to push it around her plate.

Harry filled her goblet with water for her and she nodded a thanks.

"I assume that you and Ron will want to talk to me about the Defence Against the Dark Arts project?" She caught Lavender's curious gaze and scowled at the other girl, who quickly turned her attention to someone else's conversation.

"We would appreciate any help you can give us," Ron replied around a mouthful of treacle pudding.

Hermione eyed the food all around her and pulled a face. She closed her eyes, took a breath and shook her head, as if trying to wake herself up.

"There are some things I have to do first," she said, standing up so fast she was almost a blur. "I can meet you at…" she glanced at the darkened windows, and down at her watch. "I can meet you at half ten, in your dormitory. Okay?"

Harry nodded and affirmation and she turned around, leaving her plate of food untouched. "I'll see you later then."

As Hermione reached the doors of the Great Hall Malfoy got up and left as well. The move went unnoticed by all but a few.

Hermione was halfway down the stone step leading into the grounds when Malfoy caught up with her.

"So you're spending tonight with them?" he asked, and Hermione caught the sullen disappointed edge behind the question.

She took hold of his hand and led him away from the bright lights of the entrance hall.

"Yes." She kissed him softly, allowing him to back her up against the wall.

"Do you have to?" he moaned, his lips against her neck, his hands roaming beneath her robes hungrily.

Hermione sighed and grabbed a handful of his robes, pulling him into herself.

"Yes. I've got until half ten though."

Malfoy held her face tenderly as he kissed her. "That leaved plenty of time," he murmured against her mouth.

Hermione pushed him away, her eyes meeting his. "Come with me," she whispered softly, taking his hand again.

They walked across the grounds hand-in-hand, Hermione leading the way, until they reached the lake.

"Where are we going?" he asked guardedly, eyeing the towering trees of the distant Forbidden Forest.

"In there," she replied, squeezing his hand tightly for a second. "Don't worry though; almost everything in there is afraid of me."

They reached the edge of the trees at the far side of the lake and Hermione released his hand.

"You might want to light your wand so you can see where you're going," she told him, and he reached into his robes and drew his wand out.

"Don't you need the light to see by?" he asked quietly, and she shook her head, stepping backwards into the shadows of the trees.

Malfoy shuddered as he eyes shone unnaturally red, reflecting the light of his wand like an animals.

"Stay close to me," she warned, straying from the path immediately.

She moved quickly and easily through the undergrowth and he had to jog to keep her in sight.

Malfoy had no idea how long they had been going, or how far into the forest they had come when they reached a ragged clearing in the trees and Hermione stopped.

She gathered a few loose twigs and branches together, dropping them into a pile, mumbled a few words and stood back as flames lapped at the twigs, forming what was to Malfoy a very acceptable and very welcome fire.

He sat on the ground, pulling his robes tightly around himself in an attempt to keep out the cold, and Hermione knelt facing him across the fire.

"I brought you here to show you," she began, and shuffled around the fire to sit beside him. "You need to know what you're getting involved with; you need to know what I am."

Malfoy smirked, reaching out to brush a loose lock of hair out of her eyes.

"You're a vampire, I know that."

"But do you know what that means?" she asked fervently, her fangs shining in the light of the fire.

Malfoy shuddered, thoughtful for a moment, and slowly shook his head. "Apart from the blood thing, no, I don't know what it means.

Hermione closed her eyes. "Then there are things which must be shown."

And she showed him.

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At twenty five past ten Harry and Ron gathered together their homework and went up to their dormitory.

Hermione was already there, sprawled lazily across Harry's bed in a manner that made Ron's breath catch in his throat and Harry gulp.

She had been leafing through his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, but turned her head to look at them as they stood in the doorway. She stretched like a cat, rolling onto her side and arching her back, and sat up with a smile.

"So…" Harry dumped his bag on the floor and sat down beside her and shrugged. "How do you want to do this?"

"I think the best idea is to put and imperturbable charm on the bed curtains, the other boys still have to bed able to come in or they'll start to get suspicious about what the two of you are getting up to locked alone in your bedroom." She winked impishly at Ron as he sat beside her, and he pulled a sad face.

She smiled and picked up the lantern which hung on the wall by the window, bringing it back to Harry's bed and bewitching it to hand in mid air, suspended above their heads.

Ron heaved in breath, swearing softly, and twitched the bed curtains closed.

Harry got out his wand and muttered "_i__mpenetrabiilis." _

There was a faint blue glow around the edges of the curtains, and Ron reached out and touched them, finding it to be like touching a wall.

Hermione made herself comfortable leaning against one of the posts at the foot of the bed, facing her boys, who sat leaning against the wall.

"So where do you want to start?" she asked, and Harry shrugged.

"Wherever you like I guess."

"Start with things that are supposed to kill you," Ron blurted out, "you know, sunlight, crosses, that sort of thing."

Harry elbowed him sharply in the ribs and Ron cried out in pain.

"Nice place to start Mr Not-so-Subtle. She'll think you want to kill her!"

Ron grinned meekly, flashing an apologetic look in her direction, still rubbing his ribs, and Hermione shook her head.

"Don't worry about it," she said huskily, avoiding their eyes. "In all honesty you should both know how to kill me, in case it needs to be done."

"Don't be stupid" Ron scoffed, "I wasn't being serious!"

Hermione held her hand up to cut off his cries of protest.

"If it has to be done, for any reason, I want one of you to be the one who does it."

"But…" Ron began again, and this time Harry cut him off.

"I'm not happy about it," he said, and he looked to Hermione like a kitten whose fur had been ruffled the wrong way. "But if it has to be done, I promise I won't hesitate… much. Not for too long anyway."

"If you hesitate for more than a moment I'd probably kill you anyway," she told him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and they all realised that if the need arose for them to kill her, she would probably be just as likely to kill them given an opportunity.

"You're mad!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his head wildly. "I'm not going to promise to kill you!"

Hermione smiled lazily, looking smug. "You will when you understand what I am, and know what I could become."

Ron shook his head mutely, and Hermione shrugged.

"So to begin. Vampires can only be killed by sunlight, a wooden object penetrating the heart, or decapitation and dismemberment."

Ron baulked visibly, and she patted his leg reassuringly, laying her other hand on Harry's leg to offer some measure of comfort to them both.

She looked at them and frowned. "Do you want to take notes?" she asked, "so you can include this in the assignment," She added hastily at seeing Harry's panic-stricken expression.

Ron nodded and Harry fished about under his pillow for a quill and a few scraps of parchment. He handed them to Ron who nodded to indicate that he was ready.

"Forget what you've read about holy relics, running water, and having to sleep in a coffin on a bed of dirt," she let out a soft laugh, "I'm pretty sure that Bram Stoker made those bits up when he was writing 'Dracula.'"

Ron was blank faced, obviously having never heard of Stoker or 'Dracula' before, but Harry nodded in understanding.

"And silver?" He asked, looking down at the notes Ron was taking and correcting his spelling mistakes absentmindedly.

"It's completely made up. Although… you might want to write this bit down Ron, it'll get you bonus points when you write up the essay." She paused, waiting for him to finish the last sentence before carrying on.

"The idea that vampires can be harmed and killed by silver," she dictated, allowing long pauses so that he could catch up, "is a false belief that associates some vampires' ability to transform into wolves with werewolves. This is the result of a rumour that vampires' are born of the werewolf bloodline."

"Really?" Harry was surprised by that. "What other myths are there then?"

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It was almost half past two by the time Hermione finish telling them as much about vampires as she could.

Ron was almost asleep where he sat and the last few pages of notes were even more untidy that his usual efforts at note-taking.

Harry lay on his back, one elbow crooked over his face.

Hermione gently too the parchment and quill from Ron's unresisting fingers, threw them down to the foot of the bed, and crawled between her two boys.

Harry rolled onto his side to allow her to have enough room with Ron lying on the other side of her, and she pulled his arm around her waist, snuggling back into him.

Ron also draped an arm over her body, and the three of them lay together, the only sound in their self-contained little world that of the two boys breathing, which became slower and more regular as they drifted towards sleep.

Hermione closed her eyes and let the warmth of their bodies pressing against her spread through her own body.

"How come your chest still moves?" Ron asked quietly, and Hermione opened her eyes to find his gaze fixed upon her face.

"I mean, technically you're…" he hesitated before saying the word "dead. You don't need to breathe."

Hermione reached out and brushed his messy hair out of his face, cupping a hand against his cheek.

"Habit. It helps to fit in. People would freak out if they noticed you didn't breathe." She smiled slightly in the dim light and placed his hand on her chest, between her breasts.

She could feel the racing of the pulse in his fingertips against her skin, which she knew was cool and offered no heartbeat in return.

"Oh," he exclaimed softly, his eyelids drooping.

Hermione stroked his face as she moved her hand, allowing it to rest on his arm as he moved closer.

Harry twitched behind her, a sure sign that he was dreaming, and a faint smile touched her lips as she closed her eyes again.

She must have slept because when she opened her eyes again she was in the middle of a messy tangle of limbs; Ron had his arms around her, and Harry had managed to entwine his legs with hers.

Moving slowly so as not to wake them she sat up, sensing that sunrise was not far off, and neutralized the imperturbable charm.

As she slipped from Harry's bed, she placed the burned out lamp back in its place on the wall by the window, and glanced around at the other sleeping boys.

She smiled at what they might think if they were to wake up and see her, and then crept towards the door.

A stab of pain sliced through her stomach as she went down the stairs and she winced, leaning against the wall for support as he knees refused to hold her up.

It passed as quickly as it had come and she managed to get out of the Gryffindor common room and down to the main hall before it came again.

As she stood leaning with her forehead against the cool marble wall she heard footsteps behind her and Argus Filch appeared.

"Oh it's you," he sneered, "where have you come from?"

Hermione looked down in disgust at Mrs Norris who was winding around her ankles, and she nudged the cat roughly with her foot.

"Go away!" she growled at Filch, staggering as she began to run the rest of the way down to the dungeons.

She fell through the wall into her room, landing heavily on her bed.

Trembling, she stripped her clothes off, throwing them aside, and crawled between the sheets.

As the sun rose over the horizon, Hermione's world went black.


	8. Chapter 8

Howdy. New chapter – about time I know, not that anyone actually reads my fic at all…. Sigh : ( Anyway, (despite the fact that I have no readers!) here's the usual disclaimer bit: **I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form, the characters, names and places used herein belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury and all the rest of them…** If you do read, whether you enjoy it or not, I would appreciate your view on my writing (style or content, I don't care which) just please leave a review!

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The first lesson that morning was potions, and although Hermione once again didn't appear at breakfast, both Harry and Ron were confident they would see her there.  
They grinned at each other, embarrassed at having woken up hugging each other, with no Hermione between them.

They sat towards the back of the class waiting for her, and Harry frowned when Professor Snape entered the room, closing the door firmly behind him.  
Snape often would not allow late-comers to attend the lesson and they had to catch up the work in detention.

Hermione knew this, and she had never been late before.

Snape strode to the front of the room, flicking his wand at the blackboard, and the ingredients for an emergency energy potion wrote themselves there.  
He looked around the room at the assembled students, his gaze lingering on Hermione's empty chair for a moment, and then he proceeded to take the register.

When Snape skipped Hermione's name, Draco Malfoy looked around curiously, and Ron pulled a face at him.

Malfoy gave him the finger and returned his attention to Snape who had finished the register and was giving a brief explanation about the emergency energy potion and telling them its uses and why it was a N.E.W.T. level task, and then he instructed them to begin.

"Where do you think Hermione is?" Harry asked Ron quietly, covered by the chatter of the rest of the class as they began to gather together the required ingredients and equipment for the potion.

Ron shrugged, "it's not like her to miss potions, what with it being the only one she _can_ come to." He shrugged again. "We can't even go and find her after, because we still don't know where her room is."

Harry sighed and put his cauldron on the desk. "We'll ask her tonight to show us where she's spending all her time. We'd better get on with this; I've heard that he's giving detention to anyone who gets less than an 'E'."

They both threw loathing glances at Snape and got on with their potion.

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Malfoy glanced around the dimly lit dungeon, wondering where Hermione was.  
He glared at Potter and Weasley, unsure of what he felt about Hermione being with them last night instead of him.

Was he jealous perhaps? No! Malfoys were never jealous of anyone, especially do-gooders like Potty and the Weasel.  
Maybe he was angry with Hermione? But no, he reasoned, it wasn't that either as they'd discussed it and decided it was best all round if they kept their relationship secret from the rest of the school, for the time being at least.

And, he grudgingly thought, she still had to see her friends even if he did despise them.

Malfoy looked around at the quiet students surrounding him and realised that he had been day dreaming.  
He straightened, pulled himself together, and got on with finely shredding his shrivelled figgin.

He whipped his head up sharply as a white object zoomed past his nose and looked up in time to see Snape catch a paper airplane and unfold it to read a message inside.

Snape paled, and looked around at the assembled seventh year. "Class, I must leave you now to run an important errand. You will work until the VERY end of the lesson and leave your finished potions labelled on my desk for my return. There will be no homework today, so get on with it now."

And he swept between the desks and out the door, his robes billowing behind him like sails in a high wind.

Harry and Ron exchanged a puzzled look, and Ron shrugged, his mouth twisted in a worried grimace, his nose wrinkled.

Malfoy didn't catch the look, but like Harry and Ron his thoughts had leapt immediately to one thing: HERMIONE.

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Snape rounded the corner of his corridor and broke into a run, his feet carrying his swiftly in the direction of the Slytherin common room.  
He stopped suddenly at a patch of wall indistinguishable from any other section unless you knew it was different, touched a point at chest height and muttered "Patefacio".  
The wall slid open silently and he slipped into Hermione's room.

Hermione lay in a heap on the bed, her limbs tangled in the sheets. Her naked body was covered in gashes and bloody wounds where she had scratched and clawed at herself in pain, and she was wracked with powerful convulsions against which she was defenceless.

She let out a strangled scream, and even as Snape watched she caught herself with her nails again and fresh blood flowed onto the black sheets.

Snape pulled his robes over his head and approached the bed bare-chested, his heart racing.

Hermione lifted her head and he saw that her face was contorted in agony, her fangs were bared, her lower lip bloody where she had bitten herself and her skin was deathly pale and stretched tightly across her cheekbones.

He sat slowly and carefully beside her and took her icy cold hand in his own. Immediately she fell still as though her strength had abandoned her at his touch, tears spilled from her eyes and flowing down her face as she turned her head to look up at him.

She raised her head further, sniffing delicately, and she reached for him like a child seeking a hug from its father.  
Snape stiffened as she nestled within his arms, her bare skin against his, so close that he caught the scent of her shampoo, and his heart pounded even more furiously against his ribs, thundering in his ears.

Deliberately and carefully, Hermione reached out a shaking hand and caressed his cheek, and she stretched up to kiss his lips softly.  
Then she fell back into his arms as weak as a kitten, her face turned towards his neck.

Snape felt the warmth of her tongue flicking out to lick his skin at the point where the blood raced.  
A sharp pain as her teeth pierced his skin made him gasp for breath and then there was only the touch of her mouth at his throat, soft and warm and strangely comforting.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer, not wanting the sensation to ever end, when suddenly the warmth was gone as she drew back her head, gasping.

She fell back on the sheets, her body half twisted to the side, her eyes closed tightly.  
Her eyelashes fluttered, fine tremors running through her body and as Snape watched the cuts and scratches that covered her closed up and faded, leaving her skin unmarked, as though they had never been there.

Suddenly she rolled onto her side, her back to him and flexed her fingers, stretching the muscles in her arms and legs, and Snape found himself unable to take his eyes off the smooth curves of her buttocks.

She sat up, drawing the sheet across herself for modesty, and met his gaze with a languid sultry smile.  
"Thank you professor," she purred, leaning back against him. "I'm sure I'll find a way to repay you."

Before Snape could even think of a reply she was in his arms again, the sheet and all pretence of innocence forgotten.  
She pushed him to lie down and leaned over him. Her lips met his in a kiss, her teeth scraping his lower lip as she sucked it and then she was lying beside him, her head resting lightly on his chest.

Snape swallowed. "I……" He began, but she stroked his chest with her nails, silencing him and sending delicious shivers down his spine.  
"Shush," she muttered heavily. "I owe you. Hold on to that happy thought as you sleep."

At her words he felt a cloud of calm warmth envelope him and he put a protective arm around her waist and closed his eyes.

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Hermione opened her eyes and stared up at the twinkling ceiling.  
She could feel the pull of oncoming night and the surge of fresh bloody in her veins warming every part of her.

Lifting her head from Snape's chest, she rolled onto her side, leaning on one elbow, and watched him as he slept.  
He stirred a little, his eyelashes twitching, pulled the sheets up to cover his bare chest and settled again with a sigh.

Hermione smiled sadly, gently, almost lovingly stroking his face, then silently got to her feet and padded across the cool marble floor to the shower, stretching as she went.  
She turned it on hot and stood beneath the spray, the stream of boiling water warming her skin.

Snape awoke with a grunt, jerking upright. As he peered around blearily he scratched his head, running his fingers through his hair as he searched curiously for the source of the running water.  
He lurched to his feet, staggering slightly as he head momentarily swam then cleared, and moved towards the noise.

Steam rose up to meet him as he turned the corner to the shower and he saw Hermione toss her head, her hair cascading around her hips as she rinsed shampoo lather out.

She turned the water off, grabbed a fluffy white towel that lay on the floor, and then turned to face him.  
"Hello," she said softly, grinning sheepishly.

Snape wobbled as dizziness struck him again and she took him gently by the arm and led him to sit back down on the bed.

Pulling the towel tighter, Hermione sat down beside him, tilting his hear to examine the marks on his neck.  
"Is this painful?" she asked, lightly pressing the two holes, and the way he flinched as she touched them was answer enough.

Snape watched as she ran a sharp nail across the tip of her index finger, and saw blood begin to flow.  
Hermione allowed a drop of blood to splash onto each of the puncture wounds and Snape felt a prickling sensation as the holes closed.  
She avoided his eyes as he reached up and touched his neck in disbelief.

Her hand was still on his shoulder and she withdrew it quickly, staring down at the sheets. "Do you like what you've become Miss Granger?" Snape asked, and the looked up at him in surprise.

"Most of the time. There are some days…" she paused to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.  
"There are some days when I lament the fact that I will never see another sunset, or eat another meal, or see my parents again…" she trailed off sadly, and felt tears welling up against her will.

"They didn't take the news well then?"

She shook her head with a sigh. "No. It seems in my seventh year they decided to take an interest in what I was learning, and had been reading some of my textbooks.  
I believe "Voyages with Vampires" by Gilderoy Lockhart was one. We all know how much of a tw…" she broke off and grinned, suddenly realising what she had been about to say about a former teacher in the presence of another teacher.

For the first time ever Hermione saw Snape smile in genuine amusement. "I agree that Professor Lockhart was not the most knowledgeable of people when it came to the subject."

Hermione looked down up at the clock on the wall, and holding her towel so that Snape got no more than a flash of thigh, rose to her feet.

She picked up his robes from the floor by the door and handed them to him, before stepping into the wardrobe.

When she reappeared again she was dressed in her school uniform skirt and shirt.  
"I'm sorry I missed class today Professor Snape," she said with a smile, "I won't let it happen again."

Snape nodded vaguely, frowning. "I will of course expect you to catch up with the work you missed. And in all seriousness Miss Granger, you really shouldn't let it happen again. Your self control may not endure future bloodlust and this castle is full of students. We would have no choice but to..."

Hermione nodded sadly, looking down at the ground, "I know."  
She sat on the floor to pull on a pair of knee high boots.

Snape opened his mouth to voice his disapproval at her attire, but Hermione spoke before he could utter a word.  
"You know, I now…" she hesitated, looking awkward.

Snape sighed. "Out with it Miss Granger, some of us don't have forever."  
He blinked, and when he opened his eyes Hermione was standing before him, her hand resting lightly on his chest.

"I owe you a blood debt," she said, her golden eyes meeting his, "A debt which you can ask to be repaid at any time."

Snape grimace, looking very uneasy. "A blood debt?"

She chuckled at his unease. "Technically I owe you the same amount of blood as you gave me." She shrugged. "Maybe I could just be really helpful in class, or save your life or something?"

Snape scowled. "I'll think about it," he ground out through gritted teeth, and she bowed, half mocking.  
"I want your finished potion on my desk by tomorrow morning." He snapped as he stood in the doorway. "I'm sure Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, or perhaps even Mr Malfoy can give you help with the ingredients. Good day."

He disappeared through the wall and Hermione flopped back onto the bed.

She had caught an interesting passion behind Snape's words as he thought about Draco, but she was too charged by the fresh life in her veins to concentrate too much on the reasons behind it.

She glared up at the clock again, trying to will the hours away; it was half past two, almost three hours until sunset and another hour until lessons finished.

She sat up, stretching again, loving the way her muscles twinged and pulled, and got to her feet in one fluid motion.

Hermione decided that she would go and find something to do to amuse herself in the maze of dungeon corridors, at least until classes finished and she would be occupied in a better way.  
After quickly drying her hair with a simple_ exaresco_ charm, she left her room with a playful smile upon her face.

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She glided like a shadow down the dimly lit corridor, lurking in the darkness. There were very few students around, and those that were, Slytherins mostly, gave her filthy looks but didn't speak to her.

Even in the darkness she could see every grain of sand in the mortar which held the walls together.  
Her nose picked up a hundred different smells as she turned her head this way and that, and her ears picked up the slightest sound; she could hear professor McGonagall teaching the Gryffindor seventh years four floors above her as clearly as if she were in the same room.

Hermione leaned against the wall, trying to pick up Draco's scent among the jumbled crisscrossing trails around her.  
She found him quickly, smelling spicy, with a faint trace of her own scent upon him, and followed her nose down a set of shallow stone steps that lead into one of the oldest parts of the castle.

She drifted along the corridor, brushing her fingers along the wall as she went, and as she turned a corner and reached a dead end, Hermione knew that she must be standing at the entrance to the Slytherin quarters.

She stepped right up to the wall to inspect it, wondering how they got in – Gryffindor tower had the portrait of the fat lady as guard and protector, but there was no portrait here.

A wrought iron torch holder was all that hung upon the wall, and she touched it lightly, but it remained solid under her fingertips.  
Next she began to study the stones of the wall itself, testing them at random to see if they triggered a response.

"Hey!" Someone shouted from the far end of the corridor. "What do you think you're doing!"

Hermione turned slowly, leaning nonchalantly against the wall and waited as the person drew nearer.  
She saw that it was a Slytherin sixth year whose name she didn't know. He was tall and slim, with aquiline features and piercing blue eyes.

"What are you doing?" He demanded again, towering over her.

Hermione looked up at him, unflinching. "Trying to break in?" She suggested with a little shrug and a flirtatious smile.

His face flushed with anger. "You're Potter's mudblood bitch, what the hell are you doing down here?"  
When she shrugged again, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and tried to drag her away from the wall. He found it to be like trying to pull a tree over.

He released her arm and pulled his wand out of his robes. "Get away from my common room or I'll curse you."

She smiled at him, looking into his eyes and saw his anger, and beyond that his fear.  
"You won't curse me," she said softly, a razor edge to her voice.  
She reached out with her mind, trying to push him to do it, wondering what would happen if he did curse her, wondering if she was susceptible to magic.

He had his wand aimed at her throat and she could read the panic on his face; if he was going to do it, he was thinking, he had to do it now or he would look an idiot and she would tell everyone.

"Go on, do it," she whispered, playing her final card, "or are you afraid?"

As he raised his wand and opened his mouth to utter a curse, Hermione saw Draco walk around the corner and his eyes widened.

"Tantalegra!" The sixth year screamed, and time seemed to slow down for Draco as he watched the flash of purple light flying towards Hermione.

He darted forward, trying to outrun the curse, and suddenly she wasn't standing where she had been...  
The spell hit the wall with a bang and a shower of angry red sparks, and Hermione was standing right where she had been before.

Draco felt as though a ghost had walked through him and looked around to see the sixth year staring blankly at Hermione, swaying slightly as he stood.

Hermione clicked her fingers and the boy shook his head as though he was trying to get water out of his ears, shrugged, and went into the common room, ignoring her completely.

Hermione walked up to Draco and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "That was interesting…" she mused.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Draco demanded angrily, backing her against the wall, his eyes blazing with anger, laced with shock.  
Hermione snuggled into him, running her fingertips down his chest., and lifted her head to meet his gaze, smiling disarmingly.

"I was actually looking for you. But then an opportunity for…… experiment presented itself and I seized it. How many times is anyone going to attack me so that I am able to see what I am capable of?"  
She kissed him again, her tongue seeking entry to his mouth, demanding his attention.

Draco pressed her flat against the wall again, this time his eyes glinted with mischief, all traces of anger gone, and he captured her mouth with his own.

His hands found the hem of her skirt and dipped under, and he ran his them up the back of her thighs and squeezed her buttocks.  
She pressed into him longingly and he lifted her, supporting her weight easily.  
Hermione wrapped her legs around him, pulling him as close as he could come, and she could feel his erection growing against her.

She pushed him away, stood up, and straightened her clothes, then took him by the hand and pulled him close so that he was fully pressed against her, with his hard-on pressing into her back.

She led him into Snape's empty classroom and locked the door with an impenetrable charm.

"I like that skirt," he said, arching one eyebrow as she stepped closer to him again.  
She kissed him hard, backing up and pulling him with her, then broke away and sat on the edge of Snape's desk, legs spread provocatively.

He stood between them and kissed her, undoing the top buttons of her shirt until her bra was exposed.  
He broke from the kiss and dropped his head to her neck, his lips and tongue sending hot thrills through her.

Draco slid a hand up the back of her shirt and unclipped her bra, grasping her breasts once they were released.  
He squeezed a nipple between his fingers and Hermione moaned.  
She moaned even louder when his hot mouth latched on to her other nipple, and she fumbled for his belt.

He stood up, seeing the look in her eyes and undid his trousers himself.

Hermione slid off Snape's desk and bent over it instead.  
Draco lifted her skirt and slid her underwear down, and entered her from behind, grasping her hips, and she let out a cry of pleasure as he filled her.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, revelling in the sensation of being inside her. He reached around to her front and caressed her breasts with his left hand, while his right hand ventured lower until he found her swollen clitoris, which he pinched gently between his fingers.

She let out a load gasping moan and leaned her head back on his shoulder.  
Her groping fingers found his thighs and she urged him to continue, her nails pricking his flesh.

Draco nipped at her collarbone as he climaxed and she trembled around him as she reached the height of her own pleasure.

He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her neck, and she leaned back into him, wrapping her hands around his.  
"I think I'm really going to enjoy my homework from now on…" she said softly.

"So are we a…" Draco began, and she turned to face him.  
He lowered his head shyly, and she lifted his chin gently.  
"Are we a we now?" He asked, and she smiled widely.

"You want us to be a we?"

He nodded eagerly and Hermione chuckled.  
"Are you going to ask me out then?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"Hermione," he held her hands in his own, meeting her eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

She giggled again and shrugged. "I might have to think about it!" She teased, then nodded her head. "Of course I will."

She lowered her head, suddenly serious. "I might not be yours forever, but I'll be yours for now."

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A/N: That's it for now. Please leave a review on your way out!


	9. Chapter 9

Wow, been ages since i've posted a chapter, I've been too busy writing the end to carry on from where I'm at! Usual disclaimer stuff, I don't own Harry Potter, Hogwarts or any of the rest of it, it all belongs to JK Rowling. Please read and leave a review letting me know what you think (good or bad, though I don't take too kindly to being slated by people who object to the abstract nature of where I am taking the characters! My fic is called CHANGES for a reason!)

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Hermione was waiting for Harry and Ron outside the Great Hall as the next morning, and she grabbed them as they headed in for breakfast.

"You're not coming in?" Harry asked, poking his head into the hall and seeing sunlight slanting across the Gryffindor table.

She shook her head and grinned at them. "Not today." She bit her lower lip. "Can I ask you a favour?" She asked, tilting her head to one side and looking at them both.

Ron shrugged. "What is it?"

"Do you think you could go to Hogsmede for me today, if you get a spare minute that is?"

Harry looked at Ron, "we've got a free period third, haven't we?" He asked, and Ron nodded.  
"Yeah," Ron said, casting a longing glance into the hall where breakfast was already in full swing. "What do you want?"

Hermione chuckled and shoved him gently through the door. "Go and get breakfast, I'll tell Harry."

Ron flashed a grin and dashed off to the Gryffindor table, reaching for the bacon before he'd even sat down.

Hermione leaned against the wall.

"So what do you want from Hogsmede?" Harry asked, curious.

"Newspapers," she replied with a mysterious smile. "Muggle newspapers, from the last few days. As many as you can get."

Harry frowned, "I would ask what for but I probably don't want to know. We'll get them in the free period and bring them to you during lunch. Where will you be?"

He was hoping that she was about to tell him where her new room was, and was disappointed when the told him that she would be in the library all day.

"Thanks," she said and kissed him on the cheek, then walked away and disappeared up the main staircase.

Harry let out a sigh, and went to eat his breakfast.

----------------------------

Hermione ducked into the library while it was quiet and Madam Pince let her into the cool darkness of the restricted section, which had no windows and was away from the other students.

She sat down at a corner desk and took a bulky package and a letter out of her bag. A smile touched her lips as she read her letter again.

_Dearest Hermione,  
__How are you now that you are back at school? You say you have told only your closest friends of your change, do they still support you?  
__I am lonely now that you are no longer here with me, and wait for the day when I can run my fingers through your lustrous hair and kiss your soft lips again.  
__The Christmas vacation must be coming up soon, perhaps you would like to come and spend it with me? I have not observed Christmas for many years, and having you here with me would give me reason to celebrate once again.  
__I do not want to ask this question as I don't wish to upset you, but have you heard from your parents since that night at the hotel?  
__If there is ever anything you would wish to talk about or if you need any advice, you know where I am.  
__Enclosed with this letter is a gift to remind you of me. I hope I will hear from you in return and look forward to seeing you again.  
__With love,_

_Nicholai._

There was a row of kisses at the bottom and Hermione's smile faded as she felt a pang of longing and loneliness. She was surrounded by friends, but none of them could ever understand her like Nicholai did.

She took a deep breath and began to open the bulky package, which contained a smaller package delicately wrapped in white tissue paper.

She opened it and found herself holding a silver rose, one of the ones from the moonlit clearing, and her head swam as she flashed back to that night.

She could feel Nicholai's mouth upon her throat as he drank; feel the passion and pleasure building inside as she swallowed his blood down.

She came back to reality with a jerk that almost knocked her off her chair, and she sat panting, looking at the rose which she had dropped onto the table.

"Wow," she breathed, picking it up and rubbing it against her cheek, breathing in its sweet smell. She put the letter back in her bag and put the rose carefully on top, then got up to search the restricted shelves.

----------------------------

Hermione found a volume that gave the details of the deaths of the Hogwarts founders and settled back at her table to read it.

Godric Gryffindor was killed fighting a manticore in China, and Hermione grimaced as she read how it had eaten him afterwards;  
Rowena Ravenclaw had been poisoned and had died a agonising, lingering death, growing weaker over a period of months until she was nothing more than a living skeleton and her son had killed her out of mercy;  
Helga Hufflepuff had been torn in half by an illegal hybrid breed of devil's snare and poison ivy, and Salazar Slytherin was reputed to have been killed by a giant in Romania.

They had all died in a horrible way, and the book confirmed that no-one actually knew what had become of Salazar Slytherin. She closed the book thoughtfully and wandered through the shelves again until a title caught her eye: _Vampyres_.

She sat down at her table and opened the book carefully; it was very old and dusty, and looked as though it might fall apart at the slightest touch.

_Many know of the great vampires, Dracula, Elizabeth Bathory, but few know where vampires came from, or who they originated from.  
Almost every culture in the world has its own version of the vampire; unnatural beings which live by stealing life from others.  
This volume chronicles my search into the origins of the vampire as I attempt to discover who the first was and how they become a creature of darkness._

Hermione twirled her hair around her fingers as she thought. The book mentioned Dracula, so it could only be six hundred years old at the most, and Salazar Slytherin had presumably become a vampire after leaving the school, and assuming he'd lived a normal length life for that time (about 70 years was normal for a wizard at that point if Hermione remembered her History of Magic correctly) would have been just under 2000 years ago.

She frowned. If Nicholai was the first human he had changed, what had he done in the thousand plus years before the 1400s? Why had he waited so long to change someone? She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, wondering if Nicholai himself would know the answer to these questions.

She looked up as she heard the gate into the restricted section creak as it opened and Harry appeared around the corner with an armful of newspapers.

"What do you want these for anyway?" He asked, dumping them down on an empty chair and flopping down into another.

"Research…" She grinned at him. "I have to find a vampire for the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson tomorrow."

"Oh yeah," Harry stifled a yawn and shook his head vigorously, trying to wake himself up a bit. "Well I've get to Transfiguration before I'm late."

He stood up and ruffled her hair. "See you later maybe?" Hermione nodded, reaching out for the top newspaper. Uh… Bye," she waved vaguely, reading the front page story. PARK ATTACKER STRIKES AGAIN, the headline read, jumping off the page in trashy tabloid style. She read the article closely, and knew she'd found what she was looking for on her first try.

Hermione pulled another paper closer and read the first few pages, finding a similar headline and a similar story. She leaned back in her chair with her arms behind her head and let out a satisfied sigh. That had certainly been easier than she was expecting, and had definitely taken far less time than she would have thought.

Now all she had to do was kill the rest of the afternoon while trapped in the restricted section by the sun… Pushing the newspapers aside, Hermione returned to her book.

----------------------------

When Harry got back to the common room with Ron after transfiguration, a paper aeroplane that had been circling around the ceiling for the last hour nose-dived at him, and he opened it in surprise, read it silently, and handed it to Ron.

It was from Hermione, asking them to meet her outside the Great Hall before dinner. They exchanged a look, wondering what she was up to that couldn't wait until dinner to tell them, and Ron shrugged.

At just before half past six they made their way downstairs, and hovered between the Great Hall and the main entrance. Students heading for dinner gave them strange looks, but they ignored them and sat on the floor leaning against the wall while they waited for Hermione.

"Oh, I didn't tell you why she wanted the newspapers…" Harry said, remembering suddenly. He leaned closer to Ron so that no-one would be able to hear. "She was doing research for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remember Professor Mobani said something about studying a real live vampire? Well Hermione is going to be the one to, uh, catch it."

Ron pulled a face, "I hope she's not planning to use us as bait," he replied quietly, half joking and suddenly half concerned that this was why she wanted to meet them now.

"Don't worry," Hermione said, striding up the corridor from the dungeons. "You're not bait, I am."

Ron's jaw dropped and he gawped at her. He elbowed Harry wordlessly, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

Hermione was wearing a short black skirt which some people might call a belt, knee high leather boots with metal stiletto heels, and a low cut black halter neck top that revealed a lot of creamy pale cleavage, and her hair hung loose, framing her face with riotous curls. And they could see right up the skirt.

She grinned at her boys as they stared at her, and chuckled softly. "I'm glad to see I got the outfit right. I can't tell, what with not being able to see myself in a mirror."

Harry gulped, nodding and drawing in short shaky breaths. "You look…" he shook himself, lifting his eyes from her legs to meet her gaze. "You look very attractive, doesn't she Ron?" he nudged Ron, who was staring at her chest.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Thank you. I just wanted to tell you that I'm not going to be around tonight, and might not be at breakfast tomorrow. I didn't want you to worry."

Harry tried to tear his gaze away from her legs when a thought struck him. "Hermione Granger," he said disapprovingly, remembering one of the headlines he'd seen that afternoon, "you look like a prostitute!"

She nodded, smirking. "Good isn't it?"

Ron look puzzled. "What? Whuh? Huh?"

"The papers…" Harry ventured, and she nodded again.

She glanced around, aware that she didn't exactly look inconspicuous, and gestured for them to follow her outside. "There have been a number of 'attacks' upon prostitutes in London, in and around the Regent's park area, which have the characteristics of vampire hunting activity," She explained once they were out of the entrance hall. "My best chance of luring a vampire is to pose as a prostitute, get him alone and overpower him."

"Why not just grab one?" Ron asked and Hermione shrugged.

"This way is more fun?" she suggested flippantly, smirking at his expression. "This way is safer, its better if he thinks it's on his terms, I don't want to have to use mind control unlessI have to, because I might push him too far or break him, and then I'll have to kill him and have to find another vampire before tomorrow morning."

Ron nodded, understanding, a little concerned by the term mind control. "Mind control?" he repeated weakly, and she looked at him thoughtfully.

"I would never use it on you," she stroked the back of his hand reassuringly. "I promise. Anyway, I have to go, it's only just got dark but the night seems to run away when you've got something to do." She kissed them both on the cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Look forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts. It should be a lesson you'll never forget."

She swung a cloak around her shoulders, gave a little wave, and strode back into the entrance hall and away up the main staircase. She took the stairs to the North Tower and let herself onto the roof.

The cool night breeze whipped at her cloak as she jumped easily onto the low wall that ran around the roof, looking over the edge at the ground far below, and without a hint of fear or a second of hesitation, she jumped.

She felt her muscles twinge and twist as she fell, and halfway down Hermione shrank, growing feathers and talons. Just feet from the ground her transformation was complete, and a dark brown falcon soared off over the lake.

-------------------------

In a dark dead-end back street in London a scarred grey alley cat sat on a dustbin lid, licking his paws and washing his ears. The one streetlight above had gone out months ago, but this didn't bother the cat, who had excellent night vision. He stood up and jumped lazily down from his post, walking towards the street, and stopped at the sound of ruffling feathers behind him.

He turned and looked up at the big bird sitting on his dustbin, and hissed territorially. The bird tilted its head to look at the cat, its features blurring and distorting. The cat let out a frightened growl and fled with his tail between his legs as Hermione fell off the dustbin, dizzy from the change.

She straightened up and sniffed delicately, dazzled by the smell of the city after so long out in the countryside at Hogwarts.

A satisfied smile touched her lips and she walked out of the alley and eased in among the late night shoppers thronging the streets.

She moved like a predator through the crowds, and paused thoughtfully as she saw a red double decker bus approaching. She joined the queue and, after fixing the driver with a cool stare, sat down at the back downstairs, putting her feet up on the empty chair opposite her.

A couple of people stared at her and she met their gazes, not blinking until they squirmed in discomfort and looked away. She grinned mischievously; the glamour which hid her true face in the wizarding world continued to work in the human world, so they had no idea they'd been trying to outstare someone with the longevity and patience to outstare a snake.

The bus stopped in a quiet, well lit area and she stepped down, following the pavement until she reached an entrance into Regent's park. She smiled in a self-satisfied manner and started pacing between the gate and a bench a few meters away, swinging her hips with a motion that made any passing men throb with desire and any passing women pink with envy.

A few cars slowed as they passed and Hermione gently pressed guilty thoughts into the driver's minds until they went away again; she only wanted one man to pick her up tonight. She leaned against a lamppost, bored, and closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind, searching for another predator in this urban jungle. She exhaled softly as she found him, a mind that was sharp and red, standing out amongst a sea of minds that were hazy and blue. He was coming for her.

-------------------------------------

Duaux Rodel strolled through the park towards the south gate, following the most delicious scent he had ever smelled. A group of teenage boys moved ahead of him, laughing racuously and shoving each other, and as they crowded to squeeze through the gate, he vaulted over the high fence surrounding the park and ambled casually along the pavement.

He could see her, she was leaning against a lamppost looking bored, one arm folded over her stomach, and playing with her hair. She looked up as he approached and smiled widely. She was beautiful, with warm brown eyes and full red lips.

"You looking for a good time?" She asked huskily, licking her lips provocatively and stroking the side of his face. "

I think I found it," he replied, taking her hand and leading her into the park, veering off the path and into the trees straight away. "Here," he said, pressing her back against a tree and leaning in to kiss her. She turned her head aside, placing her palms on his chest, holding his body away from hers.

"It's fifty pound for full sex, thirty for a blow job and fifteen for a hand job. And it's money up front." She looked at the floor modestly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of grubby notes, thrusting them into her hand as he moved in to kiss her again.

The girl ran her fingers through his dark hair and down his neck, gripping his shoulders and pressing her body into his. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against him, and bit down on her lower lip.

She yelped and tried to struggle out of his grip, moaning a little, wiping her lip on the back of her hand and looking down fearfully. "What is your problem?" She sobbed, seeing blood. Duaux bared his teeth at her.

"I'm a little bit hungry," he growled softly, reaching out and stroking the side of her face, mimicking her earlier action, "And you smell delicious." He grabbed her by the throat, gripping tight enough to make it uncomfortable for her to breathe.

Luckily Hermione didn't have to breathe. Duaux frowned as the girl started to laugh, and squeezing tighter and tighter until the girl grabbed him by the throat so tightly that he felt his eyes begin to bulge and he let go.

"You're an idiot," she said scornfully, her eyes shining brightly in the darkness under the trees. "You know why I smell so good? Because I am a vampire. And apart from the one who made you, I don't think you've ever met another vampire before, have you?"

Duaux glared at her, backing away slowly. "Who the hell are you? And what do you want?" Hermione grinned her special grin, the one that showed her long needle sharp teeth to their fullest extent. "You, Duaux Rodel. Just you."

He frowned again, thinking _I didn't tell her my name_, and Hermione's smile widened further still.

"You didn't have to," she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he stiffened as he sensed her intention. "Don't be afraid," she went on, "we can do this the easy way, where you come with me, or we can do it the hard way where I make you. But between you and me, you ruining the lives of seven girls is making me really hope you want to do it the hard way."

Duaux ducked under her arm and bolted, and Hermione twirled to watch him run off through the trees. "Yay, the hard way," she cheered, and set off after him.

Duaux was about 100 meters ahead of her, having received a slight head start, and Hermione loped along behind him, easily closing the distance between them without even exerting herself.

Reaching out with her mind she tasted his thoughts, and discovered that there wasn't much wood left for her to hunt him in, and as soon as he cleared the trees she knew he had every intention of taking the chase onto the streets, and Hermione didn't want to play in public.

She started to sprint, darting between the tree trunks that rushed past her, and she crouched and leapt into the branches of a tree in one movement, racing from limb to limb across the tree tops. She dropped down from the heights and sprinted forward, meeting Duaux coming the other way.

He let out a cry of surprise at the sight of her and tried to turn, but his momentum carried him forward.  
Hermione grabbed a low hanging branch and swung towards him, wrapping her leg around his neck in a position that some men would pray to be in.

"Now I don't know if breaking your neck would kill you," she said softly, digging her heels into his back as she clamped him tightly between her thighs, "but do you really want to take the risk?"

Duaux grabbed her legs, digging his nails in, trying to break her grip, but he may as well have been trying to break an iceberg with a toothpick for all the good it was doing.

Hermione let go of the branch, forcing him to the floor, and she scrambled down his body until she was straddling his waist, and pinned his arms to the ground above his head. "Stop struggling," she commanded staring down at him, and Duaux found himself obeying.

"Look at me, look only at me," her voice was soft and hypnotising, and seemed to flow in through his ears and caress his brain, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from hers. "You want to come with me tonight, to do whatever I tell you to do. What do you want to do?"

"To go with you," Duaux breathed, awestruck, "to do whatever you tell me."

Hermione smiled and released his arms. "Get up Duaux, brush yourself off."

Duaux got to his feet unsteadily, teetering about like a new born fawn taking its first steps, and vaguely passed his hands across the back of his trousers, missing the leaves that clung to him completely.

"Now take my hand," Hermione said, reaching out to him, "And come with me." He missed her hand a few times before Hermione got impatient and grabbed his and pulled him nearer.

"Close your eyes," she whispered in his ear, and she closed her eyes too, talking to him with her mind, telling him what to do, tapping into his unconscious and telling him how to change his body, to morph into an animal.

She felt his hand pull out of hers and looked up to see his skin crawling as his body rearranged its composition, shedding hair and skin and sprouting feathers, face shrinking and lengthening as a beak formed, until a raven fluttered in the air beside her.

Hermione shook her head and let out a sigh. "Pathetic," she mumbled, as she began to change herself, and once the transformation was complete she let out a shrill cry and shot off through and above the trees and into the sky beyond.

Duaux flapped along in her wake, helpless and completely unableto do anything but follow her.

-------------------

please review!


	10. Chapter 10

So here's the next chapter of my fic. Not sure if it was worth it as no-one seems to be reading it, but it doesn't cost me anything to post it here so I'll post it anyway. I do not own Harry Potter in any way whatsoever.

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Sunlight slanted across his pillow when the sound of his alarm clock woke Harry up, and he screwed his eyes closed, burrowing under the covers, trying to ignore the beeping beside his head.  
Groaning, he reached out and hit the off button, then sat bolt upright as he remembered what was supposed to happen today.  
Defence Against the Dark Arts!

He was still sat there, yawning and running his fingers through his hair, when Ron woke up and looked across blearily at him.

"Morning mate," Ron said sleepily, rubbing his eyes and yawning himself.  
He jerked his head up suddenly, his eyes flashing as he whispered "Hermione!"

Harry nodded and found himself grinning, though if he thought about it, he was unsure if he was excited by the prospect of learning about what Hermione was capable of, or nervous.  
He stood up and stretched, grabbed his towel, then ambled down the corridor to the showers, Ron at his heels.

Once in the privacy of a cubicle he stripped off his pyjamas and tossed them into the corner by the door and turned the water on hot.  
As he washed his hair he wondered if Hermione had to share a shower with the Slytherin girls and laughed out loud at the very idea.  
He was drawn from his thoughts by someone banging impatiently on the cubicle door and he sighed as he shut the water off.

Ron was stood at the row of sinks brushing his teeth, throwing filthy looks at the cubicle which he had obviously been forced to vacate.  
"Harry mate," he began with a mouthful of foam, which he spat out before continuing, "are you sure you can't play the famous card to get us our own private bathroom? For once I'd love to be able to stand in the shower all morning and not get disturbed!"

Harry chuckled as he picked up his toothbrush. "Why don't you just use the prefects' bathroom?" he asked, and Ron pulled a face.  
"Don't want to use it now I know Moaning Myrtle goes in there," he mumbled, combing his hair. "And besides, that'd still leave you in here on your own with all these little creeps," he gestured around them to the first and second years, who seemed to fill the room.

Harry shrugged, gargled some water and looked at his hair in the mirror, ruffling it distractedly as way of styling it. "Come on, the sooner we get to breakfast, the sooner it's time for class."  
Ron nodded and followed. "Should be a good lesson, I think I'm looking forward to it," he told Harry, stifling a yawn.  
Harry agreed, knowing that it would be a lesson they'd never forget.

---------------------------------------------------------

Hermione stalked around the empty Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom feeling trapped, caged.  
She carefully twitched the heavy black drapes covering the windows into place, checking that they were securely attached and not about to fall down and incinerate her.

The clink of chains on stone made her look up and she saw Duaux glaring at her, teeth bared, growling like a frightened dog.  
"What are you going to do to me?" He demanded his ice blue eyes filled with hatred.  
"Shut up," she snapped in reply, taking up her pacing again.

She went over to the teachers' desk, upon which sat a cage of rats which she had caught just before the sun had risen, and she reached in and took one out.  
Thinking of Scabbers, Ron's old rat who was really the filthy betrayer Peter Pettigrew, she snapped the rat's neck and threw it to Duaux, who plucked it up and bit into it, drinking hungrily.

Hermione was disgusted and walked to the classroom door, looking down at her watch.  
There was an hour to go until lessons began, if she was careful she could make it to her room, maybe find Draco…

She spun around to face Duaux. "You, stay." Her voice was harsh and sharp and she could see him flinch as the words held him.  
"Yes, I will stay here," he mumbled, eyes glazed over for a minute before he went back to his rat.

Taking an uneasy breath, Hermione slowly opened the door and winced at the sunlight shining through the gap.  
She closed her eyes and muttered the words of a spell which created a cloak of darkness, and when she looked again the hallway was dark, as though someone had flipped a switch and turned the sun off.

She broke into a run, racing down the long corridor and stopping at the end only long enough to cast the spell on the next corridor, and the next, down all the back stairways and shortcuts she knew until she was running along the Slytherin corridor and allowed herself to stop.  
She held out her arms, examining the pale skin which was completely unburnt, and realised she was shaking and grinning insanely.

She pulled herself together and strode down the corridor to the entrance to her room and stepped in through the wall, mentally shouting Draco's name, willing him to come and find her.  
She was waiting on the bed for him when he came through the wall a couple of minutes later and he sat down beside her, bending over to kiss her.

She pulled him down on top of her, her fingers already pulling at the bottom of his robes.  
"Not enough time to talk," she murmured, kissing him deeply.

They fumbled with each others clothes – he was suddenly as desperate to be inside her as she was for him to be there.  
He managed to get her skirt up and she yanked his trousers down, and then there was just panting and pleasure, moaning and writhing for ten frenzied minutes until they both climaxed.

Hermione buried her face in his neck and Draco barely flinched as she bit him, drinking a few sips of his blood.  
She giggled as his stomach growled and got up, taking the rest of her clothes off and turning the shower on.

"You should probably go and get some breakfast before lessons start. I've only got about twenty minutes to shower and get back up there before there are too many people walking around for me to be able to get there unquestioned."

Draco nodded, standing up and rearranging his clothes.  
He backed her up against the wall, loving the feel of her naked body pressing against him and when he kissed her he caught the faintest taste of his own blood on her tongue.  
"See you soon," he said, kissing her once more and leaving.

Hermione stood under the hot spray groaning, his blood had only whetted her appetite and she knew she was going to have to make a kill tonight or suffer on animal blood for days.  
She quickly dressed in silence, listening to the sounds of Duaux struggling against his chains floors above her, ran a brush through her hair, and slipped out into the empty corridor.

Bracing herself, she cast the cloak of darkness spell and ran all the way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.  
As she closed the door behind herself and collapsed against it, panting with relief, she could hear footsteps in the corridor.

Straightening her uniform she went over to Duaux and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her as she lifted the mind control.  
He immediately began to thrash about and she slapped him hard.

"Listen to me," she growled. "If you do everything I tell you to, I will let you go. You have my word on that."  
"Why should I believe you?" he roared, throwing her off and trying to wrench his chains out of the wall.  
Hermione kicked him in the face and looped a loose chain around his neck, putting her foot on his chest. One tug and she could kill him. Duaux glared but settled down.

"If you cause trouble, I will kill you," she let the chain fall and stepped away. "You have my word on that as well."  
Sullenly he nodded. "And what do I get out of this?"

Hermione threw her head back and laughed.  
"You GET to live."  
She turned around as the door handle began to turn.  
"Showtime."

----------------------------------------------

Hermione hovered at the rear of the classroom when the other pupils began to arrive, careful to avoid the slanting sunlight coming in through the open door, and equally careful to avoid being too close to Duaux.

She wasn't concerned that she would look suspicious being the first in class, she just looked like the old know-it-all Hermione who had to be the first and best at everything, and she found herself grimacing at how bitter the thought made her feel… that had been her life for six years after all.

Draco came in, saw her, and skirted around the edge of the room to get to her, a move a fair few of their classmates noticed.  
"You ok?" he asked quietly, not looking at her, but beyond her to the chained Duaux.

"Yes," she bit her lower lip, following his gaze to the captive vampire, who was currently out of it, his head lolling loosely on his neck, looking like he had been drugged but was actually heavily under Hermione's influence.  
And it was wearing her out controlling him like that.

Finally the door closed behind the last person and Hermione looked around the room to see a lot more people than just the seventh year DADA student.  
The sixth year class was also there, along with most of the rest of their year.

She gripped Draco's hand tightly, suddenly overcome with the fear that something would go wrong and she would be exposed and cast out from the school.  
It was only while she remained undetected that she was given sanctuary – should she be exposed the parents and governors would riot, Dumbledore would be sacked in a heartbeat, and she may even be sentenced to death.

Draco stroked her hair, cupping her cheek in his hand and gently turning her face to his.  
"You'll be fine," he murmured, as if reading her thoughts, and she flushed, realising that people were looking at them.  
"You not got anything better to look at?" Draco snapped, lifting an arm and pointing at Duaux. "I'm sure that's far more interesting than we are."

At that moment Professor Mobani clapped her hands to get their attention and called for silence.  
"Now class," she began, her strong voice carrying over the hushed whispers and cutting them short. "This is likely to be as close as to a ministry classified 5X creature as most of you will get."

She paused for effect, to allow this fact to sink in. "There are those of you who will work alongside dragons, maybe even manticores or griffons if you're lucky, or unlucky as the case may be, but many of you will never see a vampire again.  
A vampire is a far more dangerous creature than any of the other three classified 5X creatures for two reasons.

"One, they are not animals, they do not kill to defend themselves or for food to survive like the others.  
A vampire does not have to kill to live, but they kill for fun, for sport, because they can.  
Many of them have no conscience, no restraint and no desire to protect life.  
The second reason, is that unlike a dragon, or a manticore or a griffin, which are easily detectable among people, vampires look human, and can fit in almost anywhere without exposure."

A Hufflepuff sixth year tentatively raised her hand. Professor Mobani nodded for her to speak and she flushed. "If they're so dangerous why hasn't the ministry rounded them all up and executed them?"

"A good question," Professor Mobani conceded. "The reasons are numerous, but firstly and most prominent among these is that vampires are not wizards, and so wizarding law cannot be made to apply to them, as it cannot be made to apply to muggles."

Another raised hand and another question followed. "Where did vampires come from? How did they come to be? I mean, there had to be a first, does anyone know who it was?"

Professor Mobani opened her mouth to answer and was distracted as Duaux hurled himself at her in an attempt to break his chains. He froze mid leap, his body held by an immobility spell. "Perhaps we should forget the theory for now and concentrate on our guest." She flicked her wand and Duaux fell forward, landing on his face on the floor. Professor Mobani drew his attention to the cage of rats that Hermione had fed him from earlier.

"For every question you answer," she told the captive vampire, "you will get a rat. Should you try to escape, I will hurt you, and should you try to hurt one of my students, I will kill you. You are brought here so we can learn more about you and your kind. Do you understand?"  
Duaux nodded sullenly.

"Will you cooperate?" Professor Mobani asked, and he nodded again.  
"Good," she smiled widely and handed him a struggling rat, which he bit down on immediately. He tossed the limp body away and grinned at the assembled class, blood splattered across his face and dripping from his fangs.

"What do you want to know?" he growled, his eyes darting from face to face. "You," his gaze lingered on a Ravenclaw sixth year girl who trembled. "Ask me something," he suggested, though the tone of his voice was mocking, as though he were daring her to defy.

"How often do you need to feed?" she asked tremulously, her voice shaking as audibly as her body was visually, and he smirked at seeing her fear.

Duaux hissed between his teeth as he apparently thought about the question. "I suppose I have to feed every three days. But why wait?"  
Professor Mobani threw him his rat and he snatched it from the air greedily.

"What happens if you don't feed?"

He sucked rat blood from his fingers and stared at them reflectively.  
"Blood lust. Blood lust makes you crazy. Makes you want to eat everybody in sight. Your body's dying without blood. Gotta find it, gotta fast before the sun comes up and looks like a really good way to stop the pain."

"So you would actually die if you don't get blood quickly?" Professor Mobani asked curiously, and Duaux scowled.  
"I answered your question, where's my rat!" he demanded.

"Answer my question and I'll give you another one."

He let out a low growl, and then threw his head back, defeated by his own greed.  
"You'd become like a living skeleton, and maybe die months, years later. Maybe you'd shrivel up altogether, or get so dry you turned to dust, I don't know, I've never seen it happen, but you'd probably have offed yourself in the sun long before that." He shrugged.  
"If a vampire loses the will to drink he may as well be dust. Now give me my rat."

Professor Mobani rolled her eyes and threw it to him.

Duaux held it tightly in one hand and bit its head off, spraying blood all over his face and grinning manically at the class.

"Can you survive on the blood of animals?" someone at the back of the room asked, and he began to laugh like a madman who'd finally got the joke.

"That's the funniest thing I've ever heard!" he declared, sitting up and wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve.  
"You can survive perfectly well on animals, but who would want to when there are so many people around just happy to throw it away!"

"What do you mean?"

"Prostitutes, homeless people, drug addicts, all just asking for their lives to be touched, for their pain to be taken away. All mine for the taking!

"That's not right," Professor Mobani shrieked suddenly, "you can't kill people just because you think they deserve to die, because you think they're asking for it! Who are you to decide? You're not a god!"

Duaux grinned, leaning forward to face her, straining against his chains to get as close to her as he could.  
"I might as well be. I'm superior to you. Weak little humans with their short lives. I'm two hundred years old; I've seen things you can't even begin to imagine. I am restricted by no laws. I am afraid of nothing. Can you say the same?"

Professor Mobani shrugged. "I cannot say the same, but I don't claim to be a god." She blanched suddenly, doubling over and clutching at her heat, shuddering and Hermione could sense that Duaux was projecting his thoughts onto her, showing their teacher a thing or two about what it meant to be a vampire.

She gritted her teeth and mentally threw her anger at him and he recoiled as though she had punched him in the stomach and growled, glaring around the room.

"Any more questions?" he ground out through gritted teeth, "I'm getting bored."

Hermione flinched and stumbled back a few steps, bumping into Draco, her head suddenly filled with Duaux's thoughts as he attempted to throw off and break her control over him.  
She clutched at her head as images flashed behind her eyes and she shook her head violently, trying to block him, to catch him again.  
She felt wetness on her upper lip and raised a hand to her nose to find it was bleeding.

"Uh professor," Draco called, gesturing towards Hermione.

"Take her to the hospital wing," Professor Mobani said quickly, as Duaux's head flicked up and turned towards Hermione.

Draco grabbed her by the elbow and steered her towards the door, silently recalling the cloak of darkness spell before he opened the door and led her out.

Behind them Duaux roared in triumph, hurling himself towards the class as her control lifted, intoxicated by the smell of Hermione's blood, and his chains snapped and he leapt at Professor Mobani, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her clear off the floor.  
He threw her across the room and she hit the wall, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor.

The vampire grabbed at Hannah Abbot and Harry got his wand out.

"Back off bloodsucker," he yelled, brandishing it at Duaux, who released Hannah and advanced on Harry laughing maniacally.

Just as he grabbed at Harry's throat the blinds rolled up, filling the room with golden light that was blinding after the long darkness.

Duaux screamed as black flames licked at his body and he exploded in a shower of dust.

Harry stared dumbstruck and the rest of the class gawped as though they had been confounded.  
Professor Mobani struggled to her feet and brushed dust from her robes.

"Quick thinking Harry," she congratulated him. "Fifty, no, a hundred points to Gryffindor."

All of a sudden there was a roar of noise as everyone began talking a once, and Professor Mobani sent a shower of sparks into the air to capture their attention.

"You see class, why vampires are so dangerous. You can't trust them for a second." And with those words she fainted.


	11. Chapter 11

That evening the school was abuzz with talk that a vampire had been in the building, and the rumour that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were an item was spreading like wildfire.

They talked about it and Hermione and Draco decided that the best way to face the consequences was head on, and so they walked into the Great Hall for dinner that night hand-in-hand, then separated and went to sit with their friends at their respective house tables.

Hermione met the sarcastic comments and dark mutterings from her housemates with cold, withering glances, and Draco ate his dinner quickly, speaking in hushed tones with only his closest friends and ignoring any of his housemates who were rude to him or about her.

He suddenly stabbed his knife blade first into the table when he overheard a sixth year Slytherin, Efron Witte, remark that he'd rather take his chances against a case of dragon pox than kiss a filthy mudblood.  
Draco got up and walked slowly and deliberately over to the Gryffindor table with his head held high, grabbed Hermione's hand and the two of them left the Great Hall together.

"Draco," Hermione chided softly as he practically dragged her out of the front doors. "You shouldn't rise to it. They'll say worse things. And I don't care, so neither should you."   
She stopped on the steps outside the front door of the castle and sat down, and Draco sat one step down, between her legs.  
"They were always going to react like that," she told him evenly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"I know," he sighed, leaning his head back on her knees and staring up at the star filled sky. "But I've said all of those things myself… called you mudblood." He shook his head, closing his eyes as a sigh of pain escaped his lips.  
"I'm just like my father."

Hermione looked down at him, seeing he usually hard faced Draco Malfoy looking tired and innocent, looking vulnerable with his head back, exposed to the heavens.  
"But you're not him," she kissed his forehead lightly, and then moved to kneel before him.  
She took his hands in hers, lifting them both to her mouth in turn and kissing the backs of them.  
"You're not him," she repeated, meeting his cool silver gaze.

"You feel remorse for that which you have done which has hurt others, I can feel it radiating from you in waves. And I can taste your fear. You fear to disappoint him, to shame him, and yet you don't want to become him or be like he is. And you aren't him… you have nothing to be ashamed of."  
She kissed him, pressing her forehead to his.

"How did this go from being a conversation about us to being about my father," Draco asked wearily, and Hermione chuckled and kissed him again  
He broke the kiss and pushed her away slightly, holding her at arms length and looking her up and down.

"You're right," he whispered passionately. "I have nothing to be ashamed of. Who cares what they say, I should be proud of being with you."

Hermione grinned to herself, and held out her hand to him.  
"Besides, what they're saying isn't true. I'm no longer human, let alone a mudblood. I'm a vampire, pureblood through and through."  
She raised her face to the sky and inhaled the scents of the night. "Let's go for a walk," she suggested getting up, and Draco got to his feet, laced his fingers through hers and followed her as she started off across the grounds.

They walked for a while around the lake before stopping and sitting beneath a birch tree on the waters edge.  
Hermione sighed deeply and Draco pulled her body tight against his for the warmth it would provide him, and she leaned into him fully, letting his arms and his mind envelop her, soothing and calming her.

"Who would have ever thought that we would end up together," she mumbled, and he smiled and planted a kiss on the top of her head.  
"And who would have thought that you would be such a demon in the sack, goody two shoes Granger…"  
Hermione elbowed him half heartedly and cut him off with a kiss.

Draco reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, cupping her cheek with his hand, pulling her into a deeper, more passionate kiss.

"It's not the only place I'm a demon," she murmured and she moved to sit in his lap, and his hand snaked up beneath her skirt, his cold fingers sending thrills of delight through her as he thrust aside the material of her knickers and plunged a finger into her.  
Her hips moved in rhythm with his hand, rocking with the movement of his fingers within her and as she felt her climax coming she stopped and pulled away from him.

Hermione undid the buttons on his trousers and yanked them down around his thighs, letting his erection bob free.  
She grasped it in her hand and bent her head, licking the length of him before carefully taking him in her mouth.  
Draco grunted as her tongue thrashed about the end, teasing and pleasuring him, and he pulled her head away, guiding her to sit once more in his lap, and she eased herself down onto him.

He slipped his hands up under her t-shirt and grasped her breasts as she bounced, teasing her nipples with his thumbs, and she leaned her face into his neck, panting in his ear as she rained a trail of kisses across his jaw line and down his throat.  
She ran her teeth along his shoulder, nipping and nibbling but never breaking the skin, and as her orgasm washed over and through her she arched her back, exposing her neck to him, and he kissed her, his hot tongue tracing the curve of her throat.

He grunted as he came inside her, still thrusting into her until she drew back and sat further down his thighs, leaning her forehead on his shoulder, still trembling.  
Draco lifted her chin and kissed her lips lightly before sliding her off his legs so that he could pull his trousers up.

Hermione rearranged her clothing and sat back down on the ground beside him, cuddling up to him; he wrapped his arms around her and they sat listening to the sounds of the night.  
Draco's head fell forward as he began to fall asleep and he jerked guiltily when Hermione touched his arm.  
"Maybe we should go inside?" she suggested, and helped him to his feet.

Filch was already patrolling the corridors for looking for errant first years when they got back to the castle and he scowled at them and told them to get the their dormitories before curfew started and he was forced to give them detention.  
Hermione flashed him a razor blade smile but otherwise ignored him.

When they reached her room Draco dropped straight down onto her bed and was asleep in seconds without even bothering to undress.  
Hermione smiled, then went to take a quick shower. She watched him sleeping peacefully as she brushed her teeth, then lay down beside him and poked him until he woke up enough to take his clothes off.

He put an arm around her waist and Hermione closed her eyes and snuggled into him.  
She had a fleeting moment of amusement at the fact that she was having warm fuzzy feelings about Draco Malfoy before her thoughts drifted away, her mind went blank and she fell into the deep sleep of the undead.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes as Draco got out of bed and she sat up, pulling the sheets around herself, watching him get dressed.

"You know," he said as he pulled his t-shirt on, "every year October seems to fly by in a blur of cold, wet and windy days and all my spare time is usually spent in Quidditch practice or in tactical meets with the rest of the team as we plot and scheme in the hope that this will be the year we finally beat the Gryffindor team."

He straightened up and ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at her.

"This year I've missed them all, spending every spare second with you. It's Halloween, our first game of the season and it's against Gryffindor and I don't even care. It's funny how what you think is important changes as life goes on. You never know what's coming around the next corner."

He leant over and kissed her, tugging playfully at her hair.  
"You look cute in the morning," he smiled, sitting down to pull his shoes on.  
"I guess I'll see you later at the feast," he said, kissing her again as he got up.

"Wait," Hermione called, getting up and going to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and he held her shoulders gently.

"You didn't have to… I didn't make you… you're happy being with me, right? I mean your friends and stuff… she hesitated, looking up into his face. "If you've changed your mind about this, then all you have to do is tell me."

Draco looked down at her and frowned. "Are you having second thoughts?"  
She shook her head vigorously. "No, not for a second. But I just… I don't want to be the reason your life turns upside down. I don't want you to lose all your friends because of me."

Draco shook his head and touched the end of his nose to hers, holding her close.  
"Trust me," he assured her, "everything will be fine. Besides, I regale my friends with the details of our filthy exploits and they love it."  
He grinned and she poked him in the side.

He held her cheek and kissed her passionately, with a lot of tongue, and ran his thumb down her neck as he pulled away.  
"I really have to go now or I won't have time to grab breakfast before the match starts. I'll see you at the feast." He kissed her again quickly and headed out the door.

Hermione lay back down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, stretching lazily, flexing every muscle in her body and feeling deeply relaxed.  
She sat up, scratching her head thoughtfully as she got to her feet, and began moving around the room, opening drawers and picking up a few things, stuffing them into her school bag.  
She slid the bag onto her shoulder and stepped out through the wall into the dungeon corridor which was deserted, moving silently towards the stairs.

She could hear laughing and voices from above as she hovered in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.  
She took another breath, mumbled the words of the cloak of darkness spell, and raced up the stairs, walking briskly through the main hall ignoring anyone who spoke to her or about her, up the sweeping staircase, up and up again to the fourth floor, she began to jog along corridor after corridor until she finally reached the prefects' bathroom.

Once inside she closed the door tightly and locked it, leaning against it heavily as she conjured thick black drapes to cover the windows. In the dark she moved around the edge of the bath and lit the torches on the walls with a word, and the flickering light glimmered and reflected off the hundreds and hundreds of taps before her.

She dropped the plug into the swimming pool sized bath and turned a few random taps, and the tub immediately began to fill with hot, foamy, sweet smelling, multicoloured water.  
Hermione turned off the taps, stripped off her clothes and slid gracefully into the water.

She leaned against the side and relaxed, her body slipping beneath the water until she lay on the bottom, engulfed in a quiet calm world of her own.  
She opened her eyes, seeing as clearly as if she was out of the water, sitting up slightly to examine the rest of her body in the shimmering blue light.

She could see the torchlight flickering off the mountains of bubbles above the water, filling the room with a warm glow and she stood, pushing up off the bottom with her feet and shoving her hair out of her eyes as she broke the surface of the water.

Hermione swam over to the taps and tried one, smiling as the room began to fill with giant blue bubbles that only burst when they touched the ceiling. She tried a few more until she found one that dribbled out a small amount of a shampoo that smelled like candyfloss.

She started to wash her hair, working the shampoo up into a lather, and she fumbled beneath the water with her feet until she snagged the chain of the plug with her toe and pulled it out.  
The water started to drain away around her as she made her way over to a shower head hanging over the edge of the bath in the corner beneath the window, and she waited for the last of the water to empty before turning the shower on and washing the soapy bubbles out of her hair.

Foam cascaded over the creamy pale skin of her stomach and pooled around her feet, and Hermione turned the water off, upended her bag, and grabbed at the towel which fell out, wrapped it tightly around herself before climbing out of the tub. She knelt on the floor to gather her clothes together, shoving them into the bag, and walked around extinguishing the torches.

Hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder she recast the cloak of darkness spell, vanished the drapes from across the windows, and strode out into the hall.  
Water dripped off her hair and ran down her back in rivers, splashing onto the carpet beneath her feet as she hurried along the empty corridor.

She reached the top of the main staircase and ran straight into Filch, who was coming up. She recoiled and pulled her towel tighter as he leered at her.  
"Get out of the way," she snapped irritably, trying to pass him without touching him, but he kept stepping the same way that she did, blocking her path.

"You know you should put some clothes on before walking around this place," he warned, licking his lips as his eyes skimmed over the top of her towel and Hermione fixed him with a cold look.

"And why is that, pray?"  
Filch shuddered, the word pray rearranged its spelling in his head to a word which, while associated with Hermione, could only mean she was hungry and he was her next meal.

"The students might see you," he snapped, though less forcefully than before because it suddenly dawned on him that he was probably alone in the castle with her.  
"What students Filchy? Everyone's at the Quidditch match… it's just you and me." She shouldered him out of the way and ran down the stairs.

She turned and blew him a kiss when she reached the bottom, then raced across the hall, hurtled down the stairs, along the corridor and into her room, wincing as she stepped through the wall.  
Her ran her fingers gingerly over her arms and shoulders, grimacing in pain and waving away the smoke that rose from her skin, revealing large red blisters.

The cloak of darkness hadn't lasted long enough; Filch holding her up had cost her too much time and she'd been burnt by the sunlight that filtered in through the high windows in the hall.

Looking down at herself she could see her skin glowing with heat, and she looked like she'd been out in the sun without cream for hours. Her legs and thighs stung, and even her feet and the backs of her hands were coming up in blisters.  
She shuddered to think what might have happened if she had remained longer, wondering morbidly how long it would take for her to crumble to dust, her mind racing as fear flooded her, freezing her insides.

Shaking the thoughts away, she sat down on her bed, feeling the heat radiating off her whole body throbbed.  
She lay back on the cool pillows and blinked away the tears of pain that filled her eyes.

After a few minutes she got up and rummaged through her wardrobe, finding a loose fitting pair of cargo trousers, which she pulled on cautiously, and she carefully pulled a baggy, oversized t-shirt on over her head, gagging at the agony caused by the soft cotton touching her shoulders.  
She waited a few minutes until the throbbing became a dull ache and the feeling that she was going to be sick passed, then went and sat in the shadows at the top of the stairs just off the main hall, listening keenly to the commentary from the Quidditch pitch that carried across the grounds.

From what she could tell it was a pretty hectic match but just before it started getting dark there was a final victorious cheer and she knew it was over.  
The first few people who came through the front doors were talking about how close the match had been, saying that Gryffindor had been ace as usual and Slytherin had played dirty throughout the whole game.

Hermione slipped back into her room to wait until the sun had properly set, not wanting to risk being caught in it's deadly rays again today, and she paced back and forth impatiently in front on the door until she felt the sun slip below the horizon and the twilight fade into true darkness, her power growing, blood surging through her veins and pounding in her ears.

She stepped out through the wall and walked quickly up the corridor and away from the Slytherin quarters, and once she reached the main hall her impatience got the better of her and she ran all the way up to Gryffindor tower, diving through the portrait hole into the middle of a party, which was in full swing.

She swooped down on Harry and Ron, beaming at them both. "Tell me everything!" She exclaimed, shooing a bunch of first years away so they could sit in front of the fire. "Did you win? You must have won! Was it close? Was it a good game? What happened? Tell me everything!"

Harry covered his mouth as he yawned widely as he flopped down into his chair, looking exhausted but exhilerated.  
He leaned forward, staring intently at her through bleary eyes. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. "What did you do to your face?"

Hermione whimpered as he touched her and pulled her hand back, glancing down at her burns and shrugged, looking around cautiously to make sure they weren't being listened to, though in the noise of a post-Gryffindor Quidditch match she was more likely to have a problem making herself heard.

"I caught the sun a little bit… nothing major… It'll just take a little while to heal, more than most other things because… well it was sunlight which is a big no no." She winced again, and gave them a smile that was more of a grimace.  
"No sunbathing for me!" she laughed humourlessly.

"It's on my face?" she enquired, touching her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. "I can't feel it on my face…"  
"It's a little bit pink," Ron said, reaching out and touching her jaw, gently turning her face towards the firelight. "You look like you might have been crying or something."

He pulled his jumper off and handed it to her. "So people don't ask questions," he said, flattening his hair down, and she nodded gratefully, wincing at the way the wool seemed to grate against her raw skin as she pulled it on and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Anyway," she prompted impatiently, poking Ron in the stomach, "tell me about the game!"  
Harry scratched his head and looked at Ron. "You tell her," he mumbled, still staring concernedly at Hermione as he took a swig of butterbeer and leaned his head against the back of his chair,

"Harry caught the snitch right from under Malfoy's nose!" Ron burst out, and then pulled a face. "I'm supposed to be being nice, aren't I?" he mumbled as an afterthought and Harry nodded.

"You haven't been picking fights with my boyfriend again, have you?" Hermione asked lightly and Ron rolled his eyes.  
"No," he sighed. "I behaved, I made nice. It was quite a good game I s'pose. Although Malfoy probably did the right thing in passing on the captaincy. Did you see him Harry? He was hardly concentrating at all! Made your job easier though ey?"

Hermione frowned. "Draco made captain? And he gave it up?" She shook her head. "I didn't know that." She shrugged and moaned as Ron's jumper scraped against her skin again.  
She screwed up her face miserably, panting, trying to keep still.  
"Does it hurt badly?" Ron asked, frowning and she nodded.

"It stings a lot, just like normal sunburn. It's something to note down for your project though, injuries caused by…" she hesitated, pulling a face as she shifted position. She rubbed her forehead, frowning.  
"By the things we're allergic to is the only way I can think of putting it. Injuries caused by our 'allergies' take longer to heal. Sunburn in small doses is not fatal but exposure causes extensive damage so takes longer to go away."

She shivered, feeling itchy and sore and restless.  
"I have to do something before dinner," she said suddenly, flying out of her chair and pacing in front of her boys.  
"I've got Charms homework to do," Ron grumbled glumy, getting to his feet reluctantly.  
"If he has the so have you so come on Harry," Hermione said, pulling him to his feet.

The three of them trooped up the stairs to the boys dormitories and Hermione sat on the edge of Ron's bed, taking his jumper off, folding it, and laying it on his pillow.

"Is that Dracula?" she asked incredulously, picking up a battered paperback from his bedside table.  
Ron glanced down at the tattered cover and shrugged. "Dad bought it for me in a muggle second-hand shop when I told him about the project. He practically wet himself with excitement, or so mum tells me."  
Hermione chuckled and put the book back where she had found it. "Right then," she said, clapping her hands and rubbing them together in exaggerated anticipation. "What homework do I have?"

* * *

At half past seven they went down for the Halloween feast and as they reached the back of the queue to go into the Great Hall, Malfoy was just coming up from the dungeons.  
He stopped at Hermione's side and stood looking awkwardly at the floor.  
"Uh… hi," he mumbled, staring beyond her at Harry and Ron, and Hermione slid her hand into his.

"You don't have to pretend to be friends," she said gently, leaning over and kissing him lightly on the lips.  
He looked relieved and looked up at her, frowning. "Are you ok?" he asked, eyeing the jumper she wore.  
She carefully rolled one of her sleeves back, showing him her arm and he gaped, looking horrified.

"What is that? What happened to you?"  
Hermione smiled weakly at him, tugging the sleeve back into place. "I got a little bit of sunburn. It's nothing. The stuff on my face has already disappeared." She laced her fingers through his again.

"Don't worry about me, all of you."  
She nodded at the three of them and they all walked through the doorway together.

"I guess I'll see you later," Draco said, letting go of her hand and turning away.  
"Wait," she said, catching his arm. "I thought I'd come and sit with you tonight."

"WHAT?" Harry, Ron and Malfoy all asked incredulously at the same time.  
Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron. "Why not?"  
But…" Ron opened and closed his mouth stupidly.

"We've sat together on Halloween since the first year," Harry whined, realising how childish he sounded as he said it.  
"We've sat together practically every day for seven years," Hermione pointed out patiently. "I'm going to sit with Draco tonight."

She flashed them a small smile, both saddened and bemused by their reaction, and watched as they walked away from her.  
Draco squeezed her hand, reminding her that he was there, and she drew in a quick breath and followed him between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables with everyone staring at them until they found two empty seats and sat down.

"What's _she _doing here?" Pansy Parkinson hissed further down the table, and remembering the expression on Pansy's face when she'd almost throttled her, Hermione smiled smugly and cuddled up to Draco.  
He put his arm around her shoulder and ate one handed, talking in low tones with Blaise Zabini about the match.

Hermione pushed a few pieces of pasta around her plate in a half hearted way, dimly aware that almost everyone at the Slytherin table, in fact almost everyone in the entire hall, was watching her, in much the same manner as a child might watch slug covered in salt – with disgusted fascination.

Draco finished his conversation with Zabini and turned to her.  
"You didn't tell me you made Quidditch captain," she said quietly and he shrugged.  
"It was a bad choice. I'm not good at all the tactical stuff… Besides, everyone knows I bought my place on the team. I'm not exactly the best player in the world."

Hermione felt such a strong wave of affection for him in that second that she held the side of his face with one hand and kissed him so passionately that when she pulled away he had an expression of ecstasy upon his face, his eyes shut, his mouth slightly open as he took a few deep breaths.

"Wow," he breathed, looking at her. "What was that for?"  
She shrugged and squeezed his knee, aware of the mixture of looks they were getting, from envy to disapproval.

She glanced down as a hunger pang shot through her and laid a hand across her stomach, wincing.  
She took a few quick breaths and leaned in close to Draco's ear.  
"I have to go," she winced again, a grunt escaping her lips, and he looked at her in concern as she kissed his cheek and got up.  
"Hungry? He asked and she nodded, gritting her teeth.

As she made her way out of the Great Hall with a lot of eyes on her back, Hermione felt a surge of cold dread run through her and she broke into a run the second she was out of the great hall.  
She stumbled and slipped on the damp grass, sprawled on her hands and knees until she forced herself up and headed in the direction of Hogsmede.

Taking slow shallow breaths she concentrated on walking; on the crunch of gravel beneath her feet as she tottered down the drive; on the creak of the gate as she pushed it open and stumbled into the freedom beyond; on the cool wind that whipped her hair around her face in frenzied snarls.

She stumbled along the road down to Hogsmede and managed to find her way to the Hog's Head, despite the fact that she was rendered blind and deaf by the sheer force of her hunger and the gut-churning terror that it had come on so quickly.

She staggered up to the bar and ordered a glass of firewhisky.  
The barman started to say he thought she looked like she'd had enough already but one look from her made him change his mind, and he sloshed a generous measure of the amber liquid into a fairly clean glass.

Hermione seized the glass with violently shaking fingers and downed it in one gulp.  
She slapped a fistful of shiny gold galleons onto the bar and growled for more, and the barman handed over the rest of the bottle, staring at her wordlessly as she snatched it greedily from his grip.

Hermione raised the bottle to her lips and gulped down a few mouthfuls as if it were water and she had been in a desert for a week, until suddenly the alcohol hit her, making her calm enough to sit down and pick up the glass.  
She drank half the bottle in five minutes then got up and staggered outside, confused by the way the ground beneath her feet no longer seemed flat but lopsided, and she walked along jerkily, like a puppet with a broken string.

Hermione sank to her knees just outside the Shrieking Shack and leaned her head on the cool rough wooden fence, the world around her spinning at a sickening speed.

Suddenly there was a hand over her mouth and an arm around her neck and she was being dragged backwards through the fence and into the darkness behind the empty haunted house.  
Hermione was dully aware of being flung against the wall, of hands clawing at her body, ripping her shirt, and then the blood in her mouth was all she knew.

It flowed through her veins like liquid fire, igniting a path from her head down to her toes and in an instant the world clicked back into focus and she dropped the man in her arms and clung onto the wall behind her, gasping for breath and sobbing.

She slowly knelt beside the man and reached out, taking his wrist and feeling for a pulse. It fluttered weakly beneath her fingertips and she dropped the wrist guiltily, her mind a whirling dervish as she tried to remember the last few minutes.

_He had grabbed her,_ she recalled hazily, wondering why.  
Then the whispers at dinner about a week ago returned to her, the ones about the Hogsmede Menace, a man who was attacking and assaulting teenage girls in the area of and around Hogsmede.

Grimacing, Hermione touched the tips of her fingers to the man's temples and closed her eyes, taking slow deep breaths as she delved into his mind.  
Images flashed behind her eyes: this man with his trousers around his knees, forcing a crying girl to touch him: this man spying on a couple having sex through a gap in their curtains: this man having sex with an unconscious Hermione.

She drew back from him, both physically and mentally, aware that the last scene had been the man's fantasy, formed in the first second he had laid eyes on her as she had stumbled into the Hog's Head, when she had been barely capable of standing.

Hermione moved away from him, disgusted by him and terrified that fleeting desire to end his miserable little life would take over and she would kill him before she could stop herself. She turned and ran.  
She ran with all her might, her arms and legs pumping furiously, the world a blur as she cut a path through the night.

She ran back to the castle and in through the doors, shoving past a group of students who stood talking in the hall and hurtling down the stairs to the dungeons four at a time.  
She threw herself through the door into her room and ripped her clothes off, throwing them into a heap in a corner and turning the shower on.

She stood beneath the scalding spray panting and growling in the back of her throat, conjured a loofah, and began scrubbing at her already blistered skin, trying to wash away her feelings.  
She felt it inside her, the dirty blood pulsing through her veins, trying to corrupt her.

Hermione started to sob as her newly healed burns began to bleed again.  
The loofah fell from her fingers and she sank to the floor, clutching her knees to her chest and tangling her fingers in her hair, she hugged her head and bawled.

She didn't hear Draco as he entered her room, didn't hear him call her name, her first awareness of him was as he pulled her to her feet and into his arms, and led her, dripping blood and water all over the stones beneath her feet, to the bed.  
She sank onto the silken sheets beside him and he held her protectively as she buried her face against his chest and cried.

After a while her sobs subsided, though she still drew rapid, gasping breaths, and Draco grasped her chin and gently forced her to look at him.  
"What was that all about?" he asked tenderly and Hermione felt her throat burning again as fresh sobs fought to escape.

"I just…" her voice cracked. "I just realised that I can never go back… to how I was… to who I was."  
She began to tremble violently and Draco gathered the sheets from beneath them and wrapped them around Hermione's shoulders, holding them closed and pressing his forehead against hers so that they were nose-to-nose.

A single tear slid down her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb, leaving a crimson streak across her face.  
Draco lifted his gaze from his hand to meet her eyes and saw hell reflected in their depths.

"It's finally hit me," she whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "I've just realised the monster I've become,"


	12. Chapter 12

As November went and became December the temperature dropped, the rain turned to heavy snowfall, and the lake froze solid.

The school buzzed with excitement in anticipation of the approaching Christmas holidays and on the day that the Great Hall was decorated with its usual twelve Christmas trees, the eagerness culminated in detention for a few Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students who had taken it into their heads to have a snowball fight in the corridor outside Professor McGonagall's classroom.

Hermione wasn't sure whether she was looking forward to the holidays or not; Harry was going home with Ron, Draco was going home to his mother, and for once there were not that many students who would be staying in the castle.

The day before the last day of term Hermione and Draco were lying quietly on her bed before dinner, she leaning her head on his chest just listening to the sound of his heart beating, the rhythm of his breathing lulling her.

"We have to move you know," she told him sleepily, raising her head slightly as he yawned. "It's time for dinner and you look like you're about to fall asleep."

Draco sat up with a sigh.  
"I'm awake," he said, squinting in the light and running his fingers though his hair as he stretched. "I've got to go and get something before we go upstairs," he said, getting to his feet, and Hermione watched bemusedly as he jogged out through the wall, suddenly wide awake.

She sat up and pulled her knee high boots on, and was just zipping them up when Draco came back.  
"This is for you," he held out a small present wrapped in red paper tied with gold ribbon, looking awkward and staring shyly down at his feet.  
Hermione took it and looked at him. "You didn't have to get me anything," she said, carefully undoing the ribbon and dumping the paper on her desk.

Inside was a black velvet box about the size of a DVD case, and Hermione opened it, her eyes widening as she saw what was inside.  
"Draco, it's beautiful…"

Nestled on a velvet cushion and glittering in the candlelight was a silver 5 row choker, 3 rows of red jewels bordered at each edge by a row of clear crystals, ornamented in the middle with a large clear crystal heart.

She looked from the necklace to him, and back again.  
"I can't accept this," she whispered, even as she fingered the heart longingly, feeling the intricacy of the facets beneath her fingertips.

"It was made for you," he told her as he reached into the box and lifted it out. "Platinum, garnet and diamond, and I even dictated the design of it."  
He stood behind her and gathered her hair in a loose ponytail to one side, looping the choker around her throat with the other.  
He fastened it and it slid down her neck, the heart falling into the hollow of her throat, the coolness of the metal against her skin so sensuous a feeling it sent shivers skittering up and down her spine.

Draco stroked her cheek with his thumb, his hand resting just below her jawbone as he caressed her face.  
He snaked his other arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him, and gently forced her head to one side, running his tongue along her collarbone as he kissed her shoulder.

Hermione inhaled quickly, the air hissing around her teeth and she arched away from him, leaning her head back on his shoulder.  
He slid his hand down the front of her top and into her bra, cupping and squeezing first one breast then the other in his hot hand and she moaned involuntarily when he pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, writhing, panting beneath his fingers.

She cried out as suddenly both hand and mouth were withdrawn and he turned her to face him, kissing her so fiercely it almost hurt, his tongue forcing entry past her lips to thrash against hers.  
He bit her lip and as she moaned into his mouth he took the opportunity to suck her tongue.

Draco trailed his hands over her shoulders, flicking open the clasp of her bra before dropping to her waist, where he gathered the hem of her t-shirt and lifted, breaking their kiss only long enough to tug both garments off over her head.

Hermione pressed her palms against his chest and began to undo his shirt and he held her head, nibbling her lip again, tangling his fingers in her hair.  
She slid his shirt off and ran her hands over his back, feeling the muscles bunch under his skin as he crushed her body against his, their bare chests pressed tightly together.

Draco's arms encircled her waist as Hermione reached down to his belt, fumbling it open, she tugged at the buttons of his jeans and he stepped out of them, nudging them aside with his foot.

He slid his hand up her skirt and squeezed her arse even as his other hand undid the zip, and he ran his tongue down her chest and stomach as he knelt to pull both her skirt and underwear down.

When he stood up he took a step back to look at her in the light, and Hermione stood there in just her knee high boots and the sparkling choker, her head bowed timidly.  
"You are so perfect," he whispered hoarsely, drawing her alongside him again.

Hermione bent to unzip her boots and Draco shook his head.  
"Leave them on," he told her with a smile as he led her to the bed and laid her down.  
She leaned back into the pillows, her body half twisted to the side, one leg bent beneath her.

Draco yanked his own underwear off, his erection bobbing up and down as he knelt astride her legs and he batted her hand aside when she tried to grab it, entwining his fingers with hers as he raised her arms above her head, rolling her onto her back proper.

He gently nudged her thighs apart with his knee and paused for a moment to look at her again.  
She looked almost angelic and most enticing with stray tendrils of hair framing her face like a dark halo, her eyes closed, mouth half open as she panted with desire for him.  
He wished he could take a picture of that moment to keep forever; the expression on her face now would be enough to make him hard at any time.

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly, just lips pressed against lips, as he positioned himself above her.  
Draco could feel her trembling with need and as he thrust into her, her eyes flew open and she gasped, staring at the ceiling.

Her eyes fluttered closed again as he moved within her, and when he kissed her she clutched at his shoulders, her nails biting lightly into his skin, pulling him so close against her that Hermione could feel his heart pounding against her chest as strongly as if it were her own.

She turned her head to one side as she raised her hips to meet his thrusts, her eyes screwed closed, and he brushed her hair out of her face, tracing the curve of her upper lip with his thumb.  
"Look at me," he panted in her ear and she opened her eyes, looking at him through wide, dilated pupils.

She ran her nails down his back and she grasped his bum, pulling him into her, encouraging him deeper, and her eyes rolled in her head as he withdrew and plunged back into her, her mouth opening in a silent 'o' of pleasure.  
Hermione could feel the tension building, the muscles tightening across her abdomen, the base of her spine tingling.

She lunged up and captured his mouth with her own, her hand on the back of his neck, and as he pulled away from the kiss, looking down into her eyes, the dam burst and pleasure coursed through her body, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she drew in ragged gasping breaths, her hands clutching the bedclothes convulsively as her body quivered and she arched her back as the sensation went on, paralysed by pleasure, unable to do anything but moan in the back of her throat, lost in the moment.

As her body tightened and she clenched around him, Draco kissed her trembling lips and stared down into her golden gaze as he came, grinding into her until he was empty and they were both spent.

He flopped down beside her, his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath, and Hermione draped her leg over his, leaning her forehead on his chest, listening to the thumping rhythm of his heart as they both came down.

When her breathing had returned to normal she propped herself up on her elbows, looking at him as he lay naked beside her.  
She ran her finger down his forehead, stroking his nose, then nudged him gently with her shoulder.

"We have to go to dinner, really really this time."  
Draco opened his eyes and gave her a slow, lazy grin. "Or we could wait another five minutes and do that again…" he suggested, watching her as she stood and started picking clothes up off of the floor.

"We're already late," she said, throwing his jeans at him before she tugged her skirt on and looked around the room for her t-shirt. "Where's my bra?" she asked exasperated, and he chuckled and shrugged, pulling his jeans up and buckling his belt.  
Hermione finished dressing and ran her fingers through her hair.

"How does my hair look?" she asked as he yanked his shoes on, and he cocked his head to one side to look at her.  
"Wild and sexy as hell," he said, standing up and straightening his shirt.  
Hermione rolled her eyes and he took her hand.

Dinner was already underway when they dashed through the door of the Great Hall, and Hermione met Ron's curious gaze and lowered her face to the floor with a grin and a giggle, and followed Draco up the aisle between the two tables until they found two empty seats.

She leaned her head on her arm and sighed happily, not even pretending to eat tonight.  
She watched Draco wolf down a plate of sausage and mashed potato, obviously starving after all the physical activity he had been doing, she thought, and she made herself smile at that line.

Her smile faded slowly as a cold chill run through her, and she felt the strangest sensation of being watched.  
Hermione looked slowly around the Great Hall to see if anyone was looking at her any more than normal but could find no-one acting in any way that was strange or unusual.  
She could feel the buzz of human minds around her, their thoughts distant and indistinct, boring chatter, uninteresting and irrelevant to her, and then, on the edge of it all, she  
caught a flash of a sharper, brighter mind.

She turned, twisting in her seat to look around the hall, frowning, and she ran her fingers distractedly through her hair.  
"Are you ok?" Draco asked, stroking the back of her hand.  
She nodded vaguely and linked her fingers through his, leaning her head on his shoulder and he put his arm around her.  
Hermione screwed her eyes shut and tried to track the alien mind, to sense a name or a location of whatever or whoever was calling out to her.

People started leaving around them and Hermione felt another cold chill go through her, and she found that she was standing up without even being aware of having risen to her feet.  
Draco looked up at her from the bowl of strawberries and cream he'd gotten for dessert.  
"You ok?" he asked again, his cool grey eyes twinkling with concern for her.

Hermione flashed him a nervous smile. "I'm going to go for a walk. I'll come and find you in a little while." She started to walk away but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back.  
He frowned and dropped her hand. "Is something wrong?"  
Hermione pulled at her hair and looked anxiously through the window and out into the dark grounds, then back to Draco.  
"I can't explain, I just… I have to go and do something."

Draco wrapped her arms around his waist, running his hands over her ass, and gave her a long lingering kiss with a lot of tongue that should have left her with a big goofy smile on her face and panting for breath.  
Instead she pulled away from him and walked away without looking at him or saying a word.

Draco's face fell and he sank back down onto the bench, picking up his spoon but not feeling hungry anymore.  
"I guess the honeymoon period is over," Pansy Parkinson said cattily, looking smug and he scowled, threw his spoon back onto the table and left the hall.

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The snow was crisp and crunched beneath Hermione's boot heels as she walked down the slippery front steps and strode across the grounds.  
She skirted around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, tilting her head towards the sky to inhale the scents of the night, and a smell, familiar but indistinct, caught her attention.

"_Hermione…"_ the voice was in her head and carried on the wind and she whirled around, her eyes darting here, there and everywhere as she searched the shadows around her.  
She could feel someone closing in on her, an inhuman presence hunting for her and she didn't like it.  
A twig snapped in the forest behind her and she crouched low to the ground, ready to pounce on whatever appeared.

She almost screamed when someone grabbed her from behind and then her instincts took over as she wrestled her attacker to the ground and straddled his waist, pinning him to the ground, her hands around his throat.  
Hermione looked down into the man's face before releasing her grip and rolling off him.

"Nicholai," she breathed, frowning, and he pulled her into a hug. "What are you doing here?" she asked as he released her and helped her to her feet, putting a possessive arm around her shoulder.

"I thought I would come and stay with you for Christmas."

She looked at him long and hard, a cacophony of thoughts flashing through her mind, and for a moment she was motionless, unsure of what to say or do, then finally she settled on hugging him again warmly.  
"It's good to see you," she murmured into his shoulder, and he twisted a strand of her hair around his finger.

"I thought you might be getting… hungry for company of your own kind. It is difficult to live amongst humans for so long a time without seeing another vampire, even for a moment, to remind you of your place in the world."

Hermione pulled out of the embrace and looked at the snow covered ground, her face twisted in a grimace. "I've seen another vampire." She scowled, her nose wrinkled in disgust as she thought of Duaux. "A murderous waste of blood and air. I lured him… so we could study him but he was too… I couldn't control him and he tried to hurt some people. People I care about. So I killed him. Not me actually, but I allowed him to be killed. And I don't feel bad about it, no remorse or guilt because he was a monster. I guess that makes me a monster too."

She lowered her gaze and glared defiantly at the ground, her jaw clenched, her eyes flashing, waiting for his judgment.  
Nicholai grasped her chin firmly and tilted her head towards his, running his thumb gently along her windpipe until his hand rested upon her throat.  
"Look at me Hermione," he commanded huskily, and she lifted her head, meeting the azure gaze that looked at her, through her, beyond her.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said without speaking, his voice echoing in her head, a mental caress to soothe away the fear and anguish that was making her act remorseless and callous.  
"He would have killed all of them, every one of them, without pity, without mercy. You feel guilt over his death, conflicted for your part in his end. You are not a monster for feeling relief that he didn't slaughter your friends. And you are not a monster in other ways… you don't kill when you feed; you're not unnecessarily cruel, or cause pain or suffering unjustly. And you retain the ability to love…"

His hand was on her neck, turning her to face him as he lowered his mouth to hers, claiming her lips as his own, and for a moment she didn't resist, allowing him to taste her.  
"I can't." Hermione stepped away from him, wiping her mouth guiltily with the back of her hand.  
Nicholai nodded, disappointment telling on his face. "There is another," he said flatly, as though confirming an unwanted belief. "I could smell him upon you but I hoped…" he trailed off and shook his head. "Never mind.

Hermione put a consoling hand on his arm and squeezed gently.  
"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice, meeting his gaze directly. "It's not something I ever expected would happen, and it has upset a lot of people. But it's what I want right now; he is what I want right now."

Nicholai shrugged and pulled her into a hug. "I should not have expected that you would wait for me." He was silent for a moment and then asked hesitantly "does he make you happy?"

Hermione couldn't stop the image of how happy he had made her an hour ago from flashing through her mind and she felt Nicholai recoil as he caught the tail end of the thought.  
"Will I get to meet him then, this… Draco?"

"You can meet him tonight." She looked up at the castle worriedly. "Just as soon as Professor Dumbledore says you can stay. This is his school after all, and would be impolite for me to assume his permission without asking. Come on," she set off across the lawn with Nicholai at her side and Filch was just closing the doors for the night when they reached them.

"Not allowed visitors." Filch muttered, sneering at her and Hermione gave him a filthy look and shoved past him, storming off up the main staircase.  
"Who the fuck does he think he is? Slimy bastard!" she raged to herself, and Nicholai chuckled.  
"He's not a very nice man is he?" He looked back over his shoulder at Filch, who was stood watching them with a look of fear and loathing on his face.

They walked down the corridor in a silence broken only by the whispering of the portraits, who pointed as they passed.  
"It's just up here," Hermione said as they rounded a corner and she stopped in front of the ugly stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's rooms.

She ran her hands over the cold stone, feeling for a catch or switch to open the door, and when she found none she wrinkled her nose, thinking.  
"Sherbet lemon," she muttered, remembering the pattern of passwords Dumbledore had previously used. "Fizzing whizzbees," she looked up and met Nicholai's coolly inquisitive gaze, and it came to her suddenly, as if it had leapt from the stone directly into her brain via her fingertips.  
"Pepper imp," she said firmly, and the gargoyle sprang to life and moved aside, allowing them to walk through the archway and onto the staircase which spiralled slowly upwards.

When they reached the top Hermione glanced at Nicholai over her shoulder, flashed him a nervous smile and knocked.  
"Come in," Dumbledore's voice carried through the door, and Hermione pushed it open.

Professor Dumbledore was sat at his desk pouring over a heap of parchment, and he looked up at them over the rim of his glasses as they entered.  
"Ah, Miss Granger," his eyes skipped over her and came to rest on Nicholai. "And who is your friend?"

"Professor, this is Nicholai Dracula. Nicholai, this is Professor Albus Dumbledore."  
Nicholai bowed and Professor Dumbledore smiled.  
"Won't you be seated Prince Nicholai," he gestured to the chairs on the other side of his desk and Nicholai slid into one graciously.

Hermione hovered anxiously behind him, her hand on his shoulder, and Professor Dumbledore winked at her, making her relax enough to smile.  
"You wish to stay here at Hogwarts with Miss Granger over Christmas, I take it?"  
His blue eyes sparkled behind his half moon spectacles and Nicholai nodded his head, meeting the headmaster's gaze square on.

"Yes sir," he replied huskily. "As she and I are both alone it seems only right that we be alone together."  
Hermione's lips twitched in a smile and she squeezed Nicholai's shoulder affectionately.

Dumbledore's gaze flicked from Nicholai to Hermione and in that moment Hermione knew that Dumbledore would hold her accountable for any misfortune that became anyone in the school by his hand or as a result of his presence in the castle.  
She nodded to show her understanding and acceptance of this fact, and Dumbledore smiled warmly.

"Well Prince Nicholai, I see no reason why you may not reside here in the castle with Miss Granger over the holidays. I must of course, insist that your appetite is catered to outside the boundaries of my school, and require your word that you will reveal your true identity and nature to no-one during your stay, though I will inform the other teachers of your arrival."  
Dumbledore looked at both of them and Hermione nodded.

Nicholai bowed his head. "You have my word sir, that my presence will not endanger your staff or pupils in any way."  
He stood up, bowed once again to the headmaster, and turned to Hermione to lead the way out.

As she reached the door she turned and looked back at Dumbledore.

"Thank you," she whispered, projecting her gratitude into his mind, and he smiled benignly, his thought response being that this was his gift to her.  
And it was a gift for which she was most grateful.

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Hermione led Nicholai through the quiet castle, down deserted corridors, and he looked around the whole time, asking questions about portraits and statues as they passed, seemingly fascinated by the history around him.  
"Maybe at some point I'll show you the Chamber of Secrets," she said quietly as they walked down the stone stairs to the dungeons and along the corridor towards the Slytherin dormitories and her room.

They stepped through the wall and Hermione turned to look at him, gesturing grandly. "This is my room," she said proudly, a huge grin on her face. "It may not be much, but it was a broom cupboard before I moved in!"

Nicholai lowered himself onto the bed before taking in his surroundings, nodding his approval. "It's nice. I particularly like the bed."  
Hermione gave him an appraising look, sensing that he was still sore about Draco, and she sat down on the floor at the edge of the bed, staring intently at him.  
"Why are you here, Nicholai?" she asked bluntly, and he looked hurt.

"I can't come and visit my beautiful Hermione?" he asked, his eyes burning into her. "She who brings light to my life after so many years in the dark?" He reached out to touch her face and she blushed and turned away.

"He has left his mark on you," Nicholai said sadly, his eyes lingering on the choker around her neck. "A beautiful necklace for a beautiful lady. He has good taste, this boy of yours." He narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "Does he taste good?"

Hermione turned away, embarrassed.  
She crawled onto the bed beside him and lay back on the pillows mounted up behind them.  
"Yes, I've tasted him. And he may have left his mark on me, but I'm glad you're here."  
She stared up at the ceiling. "I'm finding it a little difficult at times," she confessed meekly. "And wondering whether the things I do, the way I feel is… normal."

Nicholai put his arm around her and drew her closer, leaning his chin on top of her head.  
"It gets easier," he promised her. "The feeling of guilt goes away. Perhaps you have a good situation here, surrounded by humans…"

Hermione pulled away from him and looked up into his face. "What do you mean?"

Nicholai half shrugged and drew his arm back from around her shoulders, studying his nails intently.  
"Humans ground you; keep you connected to the world." He looked wistful. "I stopped being connected a long time ago. I turned all the humans I knew, the people I cared about and I lost touch with real life." He put an emphasis on the real and Hermione felt a chill run through her as she touched his thoughts, seeing his beginnings.  
"I didn't lose it as much as my father though…"

"Vlad the Impaler," Hermione mumbled and Nicholai grinned sharply.  
"I haven't heard him called that for a very long time."

Hermione scooted around so that she was facing him and took his hand. "Tell me about him…" she whispered earnestly. "Tell me about the infamous Dracula."

Nicholai titled his head and stared into the past, sifting through years of memories and his eyes clouded over.  
"My father was a bad man. They called him the Impaler. The dragon. Vlad the merciless. One of the most blood-thirsty men in history and that was before he even became a vampire. For a hundred years after his death, after I turned him, he rampaged through Europe, killing, raping, and turning people, watering down our blood, sharing it with every person he met. Salazar had a theory that he gave so much of himself away in turning others that he lost himself and became the monster. He killed him in the end."

Hermione sat up straight, listening intently, every fibre of her being tuned into Nicholai, seeing his memories as he recalled them to mind, seeing Salazar Slytherin for the first time through the eyes of one who worshiped him.  
She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge the thoughts.  
"Salazar… Slytherin? He was like a father to you. More of a father than your own."

Nicholai looked at her with bloodshot eyes. "Yes," he nodded. "Slytherin was my father of darkness and he showed me how to live. And you showed me how to live again."  
Hermione lowered her gaze and began to pick at a loose thread on her bedspread. "Tell me more about Slytherin. He left Hogwarts over 2000 years ago and yet he didn't turn you until 1500 years later."

Nicholai grinned and nodded. "I understand. You want to know what he did and where he was in that time?"  
Hermione nodded, shifting towards him eagerly. "Yes."  
Nicholai closed his eyes again and frowned, recalling the day when he himself had asked that question.

He reached out for her and curled a strand of her hair around his fingers. "The short answer is that he spent those years becoming a vampire. What we have – we come to think of as a gift, but it is in many ways it is a terrible curse. To be alive and unable to die, condemned to walk in darkness, unable to see, to be touched by the light. Having to take life from others to extend our own existence."

Hermione became still, wondering if he was taking those thoughts from inside her head. She sat, waiting, nodding for him to continue.  
"From the little he told me about how he came to be what we are… it involved terrible dark magicks. Blood sacrifices. The rarest, purest ingredients."

Nicholai untangled his fingers from her hair and moved his touch to her face, caressing her cheek and she leaned into him, entranced by his voice. "It took him many long dark years to perfect it and when he finally found the way he killed himself and rose from death a new man. He was the first, and his blood contained the power of immortality."

He pulled her to lay down in his arms, holding her body tightly pressed against his own, his hands holding her hips like a lover, holding her body against his.  
"How did you meet him?" she asked tremulously, twisting her head and exposing her neck to him.

"Now is not the time for that conversation. I will tell you one day, but that day is not yet," he whispered, his lips tickling against her earlobe as he trailed kisses down her throat.  
She groaned and he bit down, and she felt a moment of pain before the wonder of their minds meeting and she twisted, clinging to him as he tasted her, making her senses sing.

Hermione shifted her position and buried her face in his throat, biting down herself, feeling his blood gush into her mouth, hot and sweet and electrifying, making every part of her tingle.  
She pulled her head back, panting, and Nicholai stroked her forehead, running his fingers across the curve of her brow, along the line of her jaw.  
"You are perfection itself…" he whispered, moving his head forward to kiss her.  
She turned her face away and his lips grazed her cheek.

"Nicholai," she said reproachfully, "I thought I'd explained." She tried to pull out of his arms but he held tight and pulled her closer.  
"Can you blame me for trying?" He asked huskily, pressing his pelvis into her hip so that she felt like she was being poked by a gun.  
"Do you see what you do to me?" He demanded moodily.

Hermione squirmed, drawing a ragged moan from Nicholai and she stopped, going rigid.  
"I'm really flattered that I have that effect of you," she mumbled, tensing as he moved against her and the full length of his erection pressed against her.  
"I forgot how big it was," she babbled, then shook her head furiously, planting her hands on his shoulder and pushing with all her might.  
"But I can't do this!" she sat up and straightened her clothes, and looked up to see Draco staring down at her, a frown creasing his brow as his gaze darted from Nicholai to Hermione and back.

"Shit," he mumbled, stumbling backwards through the wall and Hermione got to her feet and flew after him.  
"Draco, wait!" she called, chasing him up the corridor, catching his arm and pulling him around to face her.

His jaw was tight, his mouth a hard line, storm clouds flashing in his eyes and he shrugged her hand off.  
"I'm a fucking idiot," he ranted furiously, throwing himself back against the wall and glaring at his feet, unable to meet her gaze.  
"So is that him?" he asked harshly, gritting his teeth together so hard the words came out distorted, more of a growl than a question.

Hermione leaned her back against the wall beside him and slid to the floor, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest.  
"Yes that's him. And I know what it looked like but Draco I swear nothing happened and nothing was going to."

Draco snorted as he threw himself onto the floor beside her, stretching one leg out in front of him and leaning his head on his hand, his elbow on his knee. "So what did it look like?" he demanded petulantly, his expression murderous.

"Like we were…" she hesitated and shrugged, resting her chin on her knees.  
"I wouldn't do that to you," she muttered miserably, her voice muffled. "I told him but he was trying his luck again. Can you blame him?"

Draco snorted again and leaned his head back against the wall with a thunk, looking around the empty corridor while he tried to calm down.  
"I can't believe I told all my friends for nothing," he said bleakly and Hermione raised her head and stared at him incredulously, shaking her head in mute denial.

"If you really think I would do that that then we might as well walk away from this right now because you really don't know me at all." She wiped the tears from her eyes furiously and got up.  
She looked down at him once more and rushed away, her shoulders heaving as she fought to get a breath, completely overwhelmed by the grief she felt, like she was losing something important.

There were footsteps behind her and Draco grabbed her wrist, whipped her around to face him, pinned her up against the wall and kissed her, his hand on the small of her back and his mouth on hers, soft at first, then serious and demanding.  
When he pulled away Hermione stood with her mouth hanging open, panting and she opened her eyes slowly to see his gaze fixed on her face.  
"You're just too good to walk away from without a fight," he told her, leaning in and kissing her again. "If you say nothing happened then I will believe you."

"Hhmmmmm," Hermione purred, grinning goofily and pressing herself into his arms.  
She fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, her fingers tracing circles on his chest.  
"Remember that thing we did earlier…" she looked up into eyes that were liquid silver pools, reflecting his desire for her. "Can we do it again?"

Her mouth was on his neck now, her tongue darting out to touch against his skin as she tasted him, her hands pulling his hands to touch her, guiding him around the curves.  
Draco pulled away suddenly, his expression dark once again.  
"What about… him. That's sure going to make the sleeping arrangements uncomfortable."

Hermione dropped her hands to the front of his trousers, rubbing him through his jeans.  
"Not a problem," she said, watching the way his eyes narrowed and his breath hitched in his throat as her fingers moved. "I'm going to sleep in your bed tonight."  
Draco grinned and shook his head, breathing heavily, taking her hands in his and raising them to his lips.  
"Why not?" he shrugged flippantly. "We've probably broken every other rule in the school."

They walked hand in hand back to her room, and Nicholai stood and faced them as they entered, his eyes were black, his mouth turned in a scowl.  
"I…" Draco began but Nicholai cut him off with a look.

"We're never going to be friends," he snapped impatiently, "so let us not even pretend. I want her and she wants you. Let us leave it at that."  
Draco nodded his head in agreement but didn't say anything, and Hermione flashed Nicholai a smile.

"Tomorrow when everyone has gone home I will show you round. For now I will say goodnight, and ask that you don't leave this room."  
Nicholai sighed deeply and inclined his head. "Yes. I understand." He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it with a defiant glare at Draco, and Hermione rolled her eyes and went into her wardrobe, leaving the two of them in awkward silence.

She returned with a bag over her shoulder and flashed Nicholai an apologetic smile.  
"Night then," she said, and followed Draco out of the room.

As they approached the Slytherin common room Hermione hung back, looking hesitant.  
"How exactly are we going to do this?" she asked, chewing her lower lip. "I mean I can't just walk in there bold as brass, it'll start a riot!"

Draco nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "Don't suppose you can hypnotise a whole room not to see you, can you?" he asked and she grinned and shook her head.

"No, that's beyond me. Maybe one or two people but a whole room…." she looked up at the ceiling and nodded to herself.  
"I do have an idea though. Yes, I have an idea." She kissed him quickly on the cheek and handed him her bag.  
"Give me five minutes." She said, jogging away from him.

She turned the corner and was out of sight, and Draco leaned back against the wall, dumping the bag on the floor by his feet and folding his arms across his chest, closing his eyes.  
He stood quietly, trying to weigh up his feelings about Nicholai's arrival and the fact that he would be alone with Hermione for two whole weeks.  
He also reflected on his reaction upon seeing the two of them pressed together in a tangle of limbs, at the way he had freaked out. In that instant he had felt like his heart had been torn out of his chest and he hadn't liked the feeling, and wondered what it meant.

He whipped his head up suddenly and stood up straight, distracted from his thoughts by a noise which he had thought to be footsteps, but there was no-one around.  
He frowned and closed his eyes again, slouching against the wall again and almost screamed when he felt a hand upon his arm.  
He looked around wildly, eyes wide. There was no-one in the corridor with him.  
Another scraping footstep and he spun around. Still no-one there.

He heard a giggle and Hermione's head appeared in mid air.  
Draco's mouth fell open, a strangled cry escaping his throat. "GAH!" he shrieked, leaping away from her.  
She grinned widely and pulled Harry's invisibility cloak off, winking at him.  
He glared at her furiously, "You scared the hell out of me!" he exclaimed, before turning his attention to the cloak in her hand.

"Where did you get that?"  
"I borrowed it… its Harry's."  
His mouth fell open again. "Potter has an invisibility cloak? Since when?"

His eyes widened as he recalled an incident in the third year just outside the shrieking shack.  
"Hey," he protested, and she giggled, catching the inflection of the thought.  
"Yes." She hoisted her bag back up onto her shoulder and covered herself with the cloak. "Are we going in then?" she asked, and Draco shook his head.

"Do you have any idea how creepy it is not being able to see you but knowing you're there?!"  
He led the way down the corridor which dead ended in a blank wall, and reached up, pulling on a torch bracket. A small portrait of a suit of armour slid soundlessly out of the wall.  
"Password." The armour's empty helmet demanded hollowly.

Draco cast an anxious look to his side where he could feel her standing. "Mudblood scum," he intoned, and the picture expanded to for a doorway, which he walked through and he hovered a second longer than normal to make sure she was through.  
"Stay close to me," he whispered, barely moving his lips, and he began to wend his way carefully between his housemates, heading purposefully across the room towards an imposing stone archway.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Blaise Zabini called from a chair beside the fireplace, and a few people stopped what they were doing and looked up at Draco.  
"Yeah?" he asked wearily.  
"We're just discussing Quidditch plans for the next game against Ravenclaw, you going to join us?"

Draco shook his head and felt Hermione squeeze up against him as a fourth year boy passed close by.  
"Can't mate, I've still got to start packing." He excused himself and scooted out of the room as quickly as possible without drawing any more attention to himself.

They passed through a heavy dark wood door and stepped into a large square room that looked a lot like the Gryffindor tower, except the colour scheme was different and there were no windows.  
The sheets and curtains on the four poster beds were deep green satin, and Draco went and sat on a bed in one of the corners and started pulling his shoes off.  
"You can take that off now," he said, looking around to try and see her.

He felt the bed move and she appeared beside him. He shuddered, shaking his head.  
"That really is creepy," he mumbled as she folded the cloak carefully and put it into her bag, pulling out a folded black garment and a long thin box.

She tossed her bag onto the floor in the corner and sat facing him, holding out the box.  
Draco took it from her and was surprised to find it was hardly weighed anything.  
"What's this?" he asked, shaking it.

"Your Christmas present. Open it," she urged, and he lifted the lid on the box to find another inside, this one of dark wood with strange carvings along the lid.  
He flipped the catch and lifted the lid, staring down at what was inside.  
"It's not much," she began and he shook his head, lifting the knife out and turning it to the light.

The blade was six inches long and an inch thick at the handle, tapering to a point with a wicked edge; the handle curved gently to sit comfortably in his hand.  
The metal was silvery, cool and lightweight. The handle had a dragon intricately carve on it, the design picked out in black, inlaid with emeralds for the eyes, and his name was etched along the width of the blade just below the handle.

"I designed it, and supervised as it was forged. It's made of titanium, with a diamond sharpened blade, and the handle is inlaid with African emeralds. It will cut through anything and you will never be able to lose it. If you need it, it will be there."  
He looked up at her and smiled. "Thank you, it's amazing." He kissed her, running her fingers through her hair, cupping her face in his hand.

Hermione glanced at the door and began to strip off her clothes, pulling on a black silk chemise and sliding into his bed.  
Draco looked at her with hooded eyes as he followed her example and stripped down to his boxer shirts, pulling the drapes around his bed closed before climbing in beside her, leaning his chin on the top of her head as he took her in his arms.

His breathing even out and slowed, and Hermione's lips twitched in a smile as he began to snore gently.  
She closed her eyes and let herself drift towards sleep, realising how much she would miss him while he was at home.

Still, she thought vaguely, she would have Nicholai to keep her entertained.


	13. Chapter 13

Usual disclaimer lark: I own nothing, not even the ideas in my head... :-)

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Hermione opened her eyes when Draco lay down on the bed beside her the next morning and she rolled onto her side and put her arm around his waist, leaning her forehead against his chest.  
He planted a kiss on the top of her head and she looked up into his face. He leant towards her and kissed her, sweet and soulful, and pulled away with a smile.

"I have to go," he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "The carriages have arrived to take us all to the train. I just wanted to kiss you again before I left."  
He kissed her again, and got up, pulling a jacket on, and she slipped out of bed and stood in front of him.  
Hermione hugged him, feeling quite sad that she wouldn't see him for two whole weeks.

"It's only two weeks," he mumbled and she nodded, breathing in the scent of him.  
"Ok, you'll miss your ride…"

Draco kissed her once more, stroked her cheek, and walked away, leaving Hermione stood in the middle of the empty dormitory in just her nightdress.  
She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, turning around and picking her clothes up off the floor.  
She dressed slowly and gathered her things together, straightening the cover's on Draco's bed before she picked Harry's cloak up off the floor.

A piece of paper fell out and she knelt on the floor to pick it up.  
She smiled as she saw Draco's scrawl, a few sentences that made her heart contract in her chest and her spine tingle: _Hermione, just to let you know… I'm missing you already and I'm counting down the minutes until I can see you again. Also thought I should tell you how to get out of my common room. They secret is to poke the Cyclops in his eye! With love, Draco._

Hermione frowned and slung the cloak around her shoulders and moved cautiously out of the door.  
There were far less people in the Slytherin common room today, maybe a dozen students had chosen to stay behind this Christmas for whatever reasons.  
She was able to make her way across the common room without incident and stood staring at Cyclops, wondering how she could get it open without anyone freaking out.  
She folded her arms across her chest and frowned, scrunching up her nose before deciding to just do it, when Cyclops' eye suddenly blinked and opened up, the white covering the wall and the pupil swelling to open into the corridor beyond.

A fifth year girl bustled in and stomped off in the direction of the girls dorms, and Hermione slipped out of the doorway before it could close again and made her way up the corridor to her own room. She pulled Harry's cloak off as she walked through the door and dropped her things to the floor.

Nicholai was still asleep in her bed and Hermione stood at the end of the bed, staring down at him, knowing that he would be naked beneath her sheets.  
She drew a sharp breath, licking her lips wantonly as she recalled with a pang how his body had felt against hers, lean and hard as they had made love in the moonlight.

He stirred and opened his eyes, smiling knowingly as he looked up at her, shifting beneath the sheets.  
"That's a good thought to be woken by," he murmured with a grin, his eyes reflecting her unspoken lust.  
Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed, not taking her eyes off him.

"I was just wondering… what it would have been like if I had stayed with you."  
Nicholai closed his eyes and took a breath, letting his mind wander until his thoughts touched hers.  
"We would have made love, morning, noon and night. We would have hunted together, danced together in the moonlight; the night would have been ours. But you would have grown bored, isolated in my world and you would have yearned for the joys of your previous life. You would have wanted to leave me then."

Hermione lowered her gaze and nodded in silent agreement.  
"I belong in this world. Even now I am still a part of it. You seem to detach yourself from the rest of the world; it would be quite easy for you to step into modern life and have friends, lovers, and yet you are still alone, in that old castle, existing, not living. I have to ask myself why."  
She kicked her shoes off and crawled up beside him, moulding herself around his body, an arm across his waist, a leg over his, her head resting lightly on his arm which was slung around her shoulder.

"Tell me what happened…" she encouraged, snuggling up against him. "Tell me how you became…"  
He stared down at her where she lay in his embrace and frowned. "Alright… I'll tell you."

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He rode a white horse through a darkening forest, chasing a wild boar. He had somehow become separated from the rest of the hunting party, he couldn't even hear them any more, all he could here was the din of the boar's passage as it crashed through the undergrowth, and he spurred his horse on, urging the stallion in the direction of the sound.  
The trees blurred as he wound his way through them and he caught sight of the pig a little way ahead, at the same time as he became aware of the rushing of the river.

He smiled triumphantly; the beast would have no means of escape. He urged his horse to go faster, raising his crossbow as he began to catch up on the creature.  
He frowned, losing sight of it again and as a terrible scream tore through the air he clamped his hands over his ears. His horse broke through the trees into a clearing and Nicholai caught sight of the boar's head, three feet away from it's body, just as his horse reared, throwing him onto the muddy ground.  
He hit his head on a rock as he landed and lay dazed and winded, black dots clouding his vision when he opened his eyes and white flashes exploding behind them when he closed them.

He lay still for a time and he thought that he must have lost consciousness because night had truly fallen around him when he finally regained his senses.  
He sat up slowly and rubbed his head, feeling wetness upon his fingers and finding them to taste of blood, though he could hardly see it upon them, it was so dark.  
Nicholai shivered, drawing his cloak around him as he looked desperately around the clearing his eyes falling upon the headless boar and he began scrabbling about on the ground around him for his bow.

A twig snapped behind him and he turned, raising his bow and aiming into the darkness.  
A shadow detached from the deeper darkness and approached, and Nicholai lowered his bow as a man approached him.

"Are you hurt?" the stranger asked, speaking in a foreign tongue.  
Nicholai frowned and got to his knees, not understanding the man's question and uncertain of his intentions, unable to see him clearly in the poor light.

The moon broke through the clouds, filling the clearing with silvered light, and Nicholai stumbled away from the stranger, staring aghast at the man's appearance, at his eyes which glowed and his animal teeth.  
"Stay back!" he called out as the man reached for him, and he turned to run, tripping over tree roots which seemed to rise out of the ground for that very purpose.  
He slipped on stones as he skirted the edge of the river and skidded, sinking up to his elbows in mud as he fell onto his hands and knees.

The man was upon him, like a wolf on the fallen deer, and grabbed a handful of hair, yanking his head back violently, wrapping a hand around his neck, forcing his head to one side, exposing his throat.  
Nicholai tried to fight but it was like trying to escape from a vice, his arms were clamped against his body, held so tightly in one of the man's giant hands that he felt his wrists would break from the pressure.  
It was the most horrendous agony he had ever felt as the man's teeth pierced his veins, defiling and violating him, and his scream died in his throat, his eyes wide in terror, tears falling down ashen cheeks as he felt his life drain away.

The man dropped him and Nicholai lay still, barely breathing, cold and unable to move.  
The strange man knelt down beside him, lowering himself into Nicholai's line of vision.  
"You are almost at your end, your heart is slowing, your body is dying. You can stop this; you can save yourself from death. Will you walk with me in darkness?"

Nicholai tried to speak and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, splattering onto the leaves beneath his head.  
The stranger sat, staring at him with brown eyes that looked red in the half light.  
"Are you ready to die, young prince?" he asked, his teeth glinting like needles.  
Nicholai opened his mouth to reply again, blood bubbling between his lips and he shook his head desperately, flailing weakly, trying to move.

The man moved quickly, slicing his own wrist with a razor sharp finger nail and offering it to him.  
Nicholai reached out and took it, and the man pressed the wrist against his mouth, the blood was gushing past his lips, numbing his tongue and burning his throat and freezing his insides, and he held the wrist tighter, sucking and slurping, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of the burning elixir greedily.

The man drew in a breath, hissing around his fangs, and drew his arm away firmly, falling back onto the leaves and panting, cradling his wrist to his chest as he watched Nicholai intently.  
Nicholai flopped onto his back, staring at the sky with tears in his eyes, watching his breath form billowing clouds of condensation in the cold night air.  
The stars winked and twinkled at him and he concentrated on the sparkling Dog Star until the light faded from his eyes and his body went limp, his head drooping to one side.

Salazar Slytherin stood up and looked down over the body, nudging it with his foot. He didn't know if it would work, if anything would happen.  
He bent and lifted the body easily, slinging the dead prince over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  
With an apprehensive glance at the already brightening night sky, he headed towards his temporary home, his shelter from the deadly light of day.

At the mouth of his cave he stopped and dropped Nicholai to the ground, getting down on his hands and knees and scrabbling at the ground, forcing the hard earth aside as easily as if it was air, digging a deep hole in the damp mud.  
He pushed the prince's body into the hole where it lay still and lifeless, and began to shovel the dirt back into place on top of him.  
When the ground was even again and the hole filled in over and around the body, Salazar hauled a huge fallen tree trunk into the clearing and laid it across the grave. He stopped and observed his handiwork for a few minutes, before slinking off into his cave and rolling a large boulder into the cave mouth.

Then he crawled into his nest of leaves and aniimal skins and closed his eyes, slipping into the dreamless sleep of the dead just as the sun rose over the horizon.

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Nicholai stared intently at the wall, his eyes burning with passion, absorbed in the past.

"Mine was the first human blood he had tasted. I was the first person he had come into contact with since his transformation was completed. He had a curiosity almost as insatiable as his thirst, and I suppose he wondered if he could pass on his dark power, what would happen when he drained the blood of another and replaced it with his own."  
"That's how it happened to me. It was just a fluke. A coincidence. A freak chance it was I that he met first. Just as it was chance that I met you, that we were in the same part of the black forest at the same time. Some might say we were fated to meet."

Hermione shook her head and stood up, running her hands through her hair.  
"You know I wish you wouldn't say things like that. It makes me feels guilty that I am with another person. And not with you."

Nicholai stood up as well, pulling the sheet with him and wrapping it around his waist.  
He pulled her to him, leaning his chin on the top of her head.  
"Never feel guilt or regret for anything you may do to, with or for me. You gave me a gift when you allowed me to turn you. You brought me back to the world, made me realise that I can have things again, can do things again. You reminded me what it is to live. I don't expect anything from you. But I will always try to tempt you back into my bed!"

"That's not going to happen anytime soon," she chuckled and pulled out of his arms, walking around the bed and going into her wardrobe. "What is the plan for time you're here? Are you going to take places, show me things?"

Nicholai nodded solemnly. "I am going to show you a world you never imagined before, starting at sunset tonight," he promised, watching as she emerged with clean towels for him and clean towels and a pile of clothes for herself.  
"Well sunset is about an hour away," Hermione stated, shoving the towels into his arms. "You have the use of my room for the time that you are here. I will look after my own needs elsewhere. I am going to go and use the prefects' bathroom, is there anything else you need before I leave?"

Nicholai shook his head. "Hurry back. We leave as soon as you are ready."  
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, leaving against the wall beside the doorway.  
Nicholai smiled mysteriously. "You will find out soon enough. Now go."  
He watched as she turned and stepped out through the wall, aching with need for her, he dropped the sheets, and took a long cold shower.

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Hermione looked at Nicholai and raised a questioning eyebrow, her gaze taking in the room around them.  
It was fairly small room and felt almost cavernous.  
They were in the cellar of a large Victorian town house; the walls around them were stone, covered in tapestries and swathes of rich, dark coloured material.  
There were a few sofas dotted around, and a couple of tables surrounded by chairs.  
A long low bar took up the wall at one end of the room, and candles hung in glittering glass globes on chains from the ceiling.

Nicholai directed her towards a table and headed to the bar, where he spoke in muted tones with a dark eyed barman with a scar running through the right side of his face.  
He returned with two glasses full of dark red liquid, one of which he handed to her, and he sat down beside her, with his back to the room.

"What is this place?" she asked quietly, watching over his shoulder as more people arrived, ordered drinks and sat down.  
"This is a very exclusive club," he told her, his face impassive, staring down into his already empty glass with an expression of hunger in his eyes. "A vampire club. Half of the people in this room are like us. Half are food, here for one purpose."

Hermione licked her lips nervously and cleared her throat noisily. She turned her attention to the glass in front of her. "What is this?" she asked suspiciously, although from the way her head was swimming at the heavenly smell she already knew it was blood.  
"Think of it as a literal bloody Mary," he suggested, and she picked the glass up, closed her eyes and downed the contents.  
It was still warm and burned her tongue and throat as it she swallowed.

She gasped, raising her head, her eyes flying open. "What is that?" she repeated, and Nicholai gave her a smile.  
"That is fresh blood," he murmured, "donated by the vampire at the bar."  
Hermione looked up warily and saw that her drink had been given by a woman who was tall and slender, with masses of white hair that hung to her waist.  
Despite the colour of the hair the face that turned to look at her was young and flawlessly beautiful, and green eyes that glittered like the sins of angels fell upon her. Deep red lips curved in a sensuous smile and Hermione's spine began to tingle as she caught a flash of the future, the barest flicker in her mind of flesh pressing against flesh and throaty moans filling the room.

She tilted her head and gripped Nicholai's hand so hard her nails bit into his skin, forcing him to face her. "What aren't you telling me Nicholai? When you said you were going to show me a good night I expected an expensive wine bar or a crowded nightclub. Why have you brought me here?"  
"Do you know what day it is?" he asked sharply, whipping his head up and twisting his hand in hers, so that he was gripping her tightly, passionately, his eyes glowing, the candlelight reflecting in their depths.

"December the 21st," she said softly, and Nicholai shook his head, scowling.  
He sneered suddenly, his face twisting in an ugly expression. "None of the people here know the true meaning of this night, of why we are here, about what we are about to do."  
Hermione frowned, her head spinning. "Nicholai, will you please tell me what's going on," she whimpered, pulling her hands back and gripping the edge of the table hard enough to leave grooves in the wood.

Laughter distracted her and she looked around to see the woman at the bar tossing her hair back, flirting with a handsome young man.  
As Hermione watched a slim hand snaked around the man's waist and pulled him closer, and the beautiful women buried her face in his neck and drank deep.  
Hermione's mouth fell open as a second woman stepped up on the other side of the man, lifted his arm and bit into the flesh at the crook of his elbow.

"Nicholai, what the fuck is going on?"  
Nicholai pulled her up from her seat and dragged her into his lap, gathering her hair to one side and pressing his lips to her ear.  
"This is a blood orgy," he told her, dragging her back down as she automatically tried to bolt. He held her in place, his hands on her arse in a manner that she would have told him off for, had she been thinking straight.

"They take place all over the world, every year in this night, the night of the winter solstice. This is a very powerful day for vampires…"  
He looked at her intently; her eyes gave nothing away, but there was something about the set of her mouth that told him she was afraid, though she didn't know of what.  
Hermione found herself breathless with unwanted lust and panic at being held by him and she found it hard to choke out the word "why?"

"Because it is the shortest day and the longest night… Because it was on this night, hundreds of years ago, that Salazar Slytherin finally succeeded in becoming immortal. Now this is a night of feasting and blood sharing. Many of the vampires here tonight have brought a human with them, they drink human blood and then they drink from each other. It is the ultimate high and power boost."

Hermione tried to push herself away from him, shoving against his chest but he held her wrists tightly, and she shook her head vehemently, panting with lust, need, fear…  
"And my… bloody Mary. Was that just a taster? I can't… If I start to… if I do this, I'll go down a path I can't step off. I don't want to lose control."

Nicholai brushed his lips against hers in the lightest kiss.  
"This is how you gain control," he murmured and she nodded, giving herself to him, surrendering to the darkness now as she had done on the night she died. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, pressing her mouth to his neck.  
Instinctively, with no room in her head for thoughts of anything but how hungry she was, she bit down, opening his veins and she rocked in his lap as she gulped down mouthfuls of hot, sweet blood.

Nicholai held the back of her head, stroking her hair, moaning as she touched her tongue against him.  
Hermione whipped her head up, gasping for air, licking blood from her fangs.

"Are you ready to share?" the beautiful women who has been at the bar asked Nicholai, her voice as soft as a caress, her accent heavy Eastern European.  
Hermione felt lust swell up within her and surge through her veins, and she slid back into her own seat and pulled the woman towards her, her hand sliding around and settling on the woman's arse as she guided her to sit across her lap.  
"You want me?" she asked softly, brushing her lips against the woman's ear as she spoke, putting her hand on the back of the woman's neck and kissing her, parting her lips with her tongue and biting her lower lip, sucking passionately.

"Your name is Arica," Hermione murmured as she pulled away, licking a stray drop of blood from the corner of her mouth. "And you taste like heaven…"  
"Who are you?" Arica asked, brushing her fingers against her bloody lip.  
"I'm Hermione," she purred, pulling the woman to her again and kissing her neck, biting down hard so suddenly that Arica gasped, her finger's clutching reflexively as she gripped Hermione's shirt, her nails scratching Hermione's skin, though she didn't even notice.

Arica moaned deeply in the back of her throat, and Hermione drank, pleasure flooding her, making her skin sing, and she jerked her head, tearing the artery open more, gulping down the blood that gushed hotly between her lips.  
Arica shuddered violently against Hermione, panting and moaning like she was reaching some kind of climax, and the flow of blood stopped as Nicholai gently but firmly pulled Hermione back by her hair.  
Arica wailed at the loss of contact and Hermione blinked rapidly, shaking her head to clear it, so intoxicated by the taste, the smell of everything around her that she could hardly see.

"You'll take too much if you're not careful, little one," Nicholai murmured in her ear, helping Arica up out of Hermione's lap and guiding her to sit in a chair, where he offered his wrist to her.

Hermione found herself on her feet, moving around the room, searching for something else, someone else who could make her feel as alive as she had with Arica in her arms.  
A male vampire with long dark hair pulled back in a pony tail and wearing black leather trousers reached out for her, running a finger down the side of her face, and Hermione allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace, allowed herself to be slammed against the wall as he turned her face away from him and nipped at her neck.  
She let him drink for a second before forcing his head back, exposing his throat and she darted in, once again feeling a wave of almost unbearable pleasure as the first drop of blood passed over her tongue and flowed down her throat.

He moaned as she drank, just as Arica had, holding her head in place, not wanting her to stop as she steadily emptied his veins. His grip faltered for a moment and Hermione drew her head back, knowing she has to stop before she bled him dry.  
He flopped against the wall as she stepped away from him, sliding to the floor with a goofy grin on his face, and Hermione turned to look once more around the room, still unsatisfied, still burning with her thirst.

She moved on……

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A much shorter chapter than the last one but there is a lot more to come. I'm just suffering because I have no time to write anymore!! Keep reading and reviewing!


	14. Chapter 14

***Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Harry Potter franchise, nor have any right or claim to them.***

Sorry it's taken so long to post this chapter, I've been struggling and fighting against writers' block. I think I'm over it now, so shouldn't be too long until the next chapter!! If you read, please leave a review :-)

Fourteen

Hermione opened her eyes and stared dumbly at the familiar ceiling, feeling as though her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. She groaned and closed her eyes again, rolling onto her side and bumping into Nicholai, who still slumbered, totally naked beside her. She sat bolt upright and was relieved to discover that she was wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of lacy French knickers, though nothing else.

Drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them, she rested her forehead on them, trying to recall the events of the night before. It was a blur, a haze of colours and sounds. Nicholai stirred beside her and sat up, running his fingers through his hair and looking perfect.  
"Another wonderful sight to awake to…" he purred, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Hermione moved her face away, squinting at him, her head pounding. "What happened last night?" she asked, her voice quavering as her stomach lurched and she thought she might vomit, not even knowing if it were possible for her to do so. She clamped a hand over her mouth, drawing quick, panicked breaths through her nose, and Nicholai stoked her back, lifting her hair away from the back of her neck and fanning her with his free hand.

"Everything is alright," he murmured reassuringly, his hand firmly on the back of her head, and she pushed back against it, her face between her knees, until the clanging in her ears had passed and the black dots faded from her vision.

"I don't feel well Nicholai," Hermione whimpered, tears splashing down her face, and he let go of her hair as he groped around on the floor for his trousers, pulled his jeans on and held out a hand to her.

"Come with me, I think you need some fresh air."

Hermione managed to get onto her knees without falling over, and slowly pushed herself up to stand, wobbling uncertainly as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She held on to Nicholai's arm tight enough to bruise as he led her out of her room and down the corridor, each step making her feel sick as she climbed the stairs to the Main Entrance. As they reached the front doors a cool breeze blew on her face and she closed her eyes and turned her face to it, feeling sweat beading on her forehead, she tottered down the steps onto the drive.

Snow and gravel crunched beneath her bare feet as she staggered across the grounds, Nicholai barely a step behind her, until she suddenly tripped over her own feet and sprawled in the snow, smacking her head as she fell. She lay in the dazzling white, shivering, her head spinning, swirling and whirling and feeling like she was on a roller coaster. She jerked, like she'd fallen and a smiled tugged at her lips. "Nicholai," she purred his name, looking up at him, and pulled him down into the snow to join her. Hermione turned her head, reaching out to link her fingers through his and she pulled him on top of her, groaning as his weight pressed her deeper into the snow. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and licked his lips, urging him to part them, forcing her tongue deep into his mouth, her nails digging into his back.

She wrapped her legs around him too, and he twisted so that she straddled him. Hermione moved with him, pressing herself tightly against his chest, and Nicholai gripped her hips, flipping again so that he was positioned above her, and her legs were once again wrapped around his waist, holding him against her, her groin crushing into hers. She kissed him fiercely, biting his tongue as he pushed it into her mouth, tasting his blood, and she pushed his head to one side viciously, exposing his neck, darting in and biting him, his blood filling her mouth. They rolled together in the snow, bodies pressed together, breathing faster and faster, and with every movement she gulped down another mouthful and she let out a cry as she wrenched her head back, his blood burning her throat. She lay on her back with her eyes closed, her chest heaving, the fresh blood surging through her veins.

Nicholai flopped down beside her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his fingers caressing her thighs absently. Sparks went off in her head and her eyes flew open, she was on her feet beside him without even having gone through the motions of standing.

"I'm so thirsty… What's happening to me?!" she shrieked, an icy blast of wind blowing over them.  
Nicholai flew to his feet, gripping her arms fiercely, shaking her. "It's nothing. You're just developing… new strength, new power.  
"You took me to that place," she murmured, staring into the middle distance, seeing the events of the previous night playing out in her head like a film. "You took me to that place and I drank…"

Her voice trailed off weakly and she closed her eyes, bloody tears dripping down her cheeks. "I tried to tell you, if I started I wouldn't be able to control it… You let me be a monster!" She flew at him, catching him by surprise and knocking him to the ground, her fist connecting with his face. Nicholai grabbed her wrists and squeezed tightly, painfully, flipping her so that he pinned her to the ground.  
"Let me go!" she screamed, flailing, kicking with her legs, catching him in the stomach with her knee. Nicholai released his grip and rolled away from her. He crouched, panting, clutching his stomach, and he reacted automatically as Hermione launched herself at him again, raining punches down on his arms and chest; he grabbed her round the throat, causing her to still.

"Stop that," he snapped irritably, throwing her away from him. She sailed through the air and hit a tree, sprawling awkwardly on the ground where she landed. She pushed herself up on one elbow, sobbing dryly, raising red rimmed eyes to look at him resentfully. "You are no monster Hermione." Nicholai ground out through gritted teeth. "You drank from every vampire in that place last night, draining some almost to the point of death. But they invited you to do it!"

Hermione got herself in to a sitting position, hugging her knees to her chest again, struggling to breathe, and struggling to control her anger, her fear, feeling as though her blood was boiling, pounding in her veins, making her brain throb.

Nicholai approached her warily. "Hermione… are you alright?"

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, yanking it, baring her teeth in a manic grin as she pulled chunks out. She opened her mouth and let out an agonised scream that somehow created a ricochet, like a physical force, that made the trees around them bend as though battered by a gale and knocked Nicholai off his feet.  
"Hermione!" He crawled over to where she slumped, unconscious, against the tree. He knelt beside her and grasped her chin, turning her face to his, raising one of her eyelids and looking down at her. His mouth fell open at what he saw: her pupils had expanded to fill her irises, and the whites of her eyes were filled with blood. He opened her mouth, running his fingers over her canines which shrank at his touch, receding back into her gums until they were the size of normal teeth.

His brow creased in a frown as he hoisted her into his arms and she flopped lifelessly against him. Shaking his head, he carried her back through the snowy grounds and into the castle.

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Hermione jerked instantly back into consciousness, the confusion she had felt before completely gone. Her eyes fluttered open and she immediately screwed them shut again, turning her face away from the light. Her throat burned, and she felt like someone had cut open her skull and tap-danced on her brain.  
"Light out," she mumbled, and the flickering light she could she through her eyelids disappeared. She nodded to herself, satisfied. She frowned, opening her eyes and looking around the room in the darkness. She was lying on her own bed, but she did not recognise the room around her. Gone was her furniture, the desk, the wardrobe. Chunks of marble littered the floor, and a fine patina of dust covered everything. She sat up and felt cold metal around her ankles, and looked down at her feet to see that she was chained to the floor.

"Where's Nicholai?" she demanded to know through gritted teeth. "I think I'm going to kill him! And what the f-ffff. What's going on?"  
She sat up, pulling at the chains for a moment before raising her eyes to the person sat in the chair at the end of the bed, before staring pensively at the floor between her feet, her jaw clenched.

"I do not know what has happened to you." Professor Snape murmured. "I can only make assumptions because I have Prince Dracula tells me that he took you to a blood orgy. And it has increased your… power interminably."  
"So why am I chained to the floor?! And where is Nicholai? This is all his fault."

Professor Snape nodded. "I would imagine it is." Snape cleared his throat. "What do you remember of where he took you?"  
Hermione tilted her head to the ceiling and closed her eyes. "He took me to a club. A vampire club. There had to be at least fifty vampires there and fed from every single one of them. Some almost to the point of no return." Her voice was hushed, barely a whisper. She raised a hand to her lips, feeling the teeth that were no longer there.

"You know I could release these chains if I really wanted to now, don't you?" she asked, looking up at Snape again. Her eyes shone and flashed in the dark as she crawled forward on her knees towards him. The metal chair that he sat in was just out of her reach. "What else did Nicholai say?" she asked him. "I'm interested to hear."

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably, clearly unable to see her in the dark; only hear her movements and the clanking of the chains.

"He thinks the number of vampires you have drunk from have unleashed some kind of ancient power in your blood." He trailed off as she moved again and heard the clicking of the chains unlocking. "That is an example…" he continued. "Those are dragon fetters Hermione. They cannot be opened by wizard magic. You were a powerful witch before, and then you combined this with the blood of Dracula, one of the most powerful vampires of all time. This merge has made you a powerful predator, so powerful that you now fit in with those surrounding you even more."

Hermione was at his feet now on her knees. She touched his hand and he flinched. "You mean…" she lifted his fingers to her mouth and parted her lips and he stroked her canines. An almost orgasmic moan escaped her and she drew back, swallowing. "How long have I been… here? And what happened to my room?"  
Snape cleared his throat again. "Four days. Whilst you were… asleep, certain phenomena took place, which we are attributing to you. Earth tremors, floating furniture, wooden items sprouting into leaf and growing, rock crumbled to dust…"

Hermione grimaced, a pained expression flicking across her face. "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"  
Snape shook his head. "All activity was localised, contained within this room."

Hermione closed her eyes and blew out a breath. "Good. I'm glad. Four days? Four days makes it Christmas day."  
Snape got to his feet, nodding. "Yes, it is. Now you are awake, I'm going down to dinner. Professor Dumbledore extends an invitation to you, hoping you will join us." He hovered uncertainly, holding onto the back of the chair. "But you will need to escort me to the door. Or at least let me have light."

Hermione snapped her fingers once and the torches on the walls flickered to life. "So he thinks I'm safe?" she asked, hesitantly, torn between getting out now she was awake, and not wanting to endanger anyone.  
"Certainly. You wouldn't still be here is he didn't believe that completely."

"Huh." Hermione bit her lower lips anxiously but nodded. She walked to the shower in the corner, stripping off her clothes as she went and turned the water on, standing under the boiling spray until she felt warm and washed her hair. She wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out into the middle of the room. "What happened to my wardrobe?" She asked with a scowl.

Snape chuckled gently. "The door started to grow… we've actually planted the tree out in the grounds."

"Huh," Hermione mumbled again, and snapped her fingers. The bricks in the wall opened into an arch, similar to the entrance to Diagon Alley, and she stepped through it into her wardrobe. She quickly dried off and pulled on clean underwear, then dug out a pair of black jeans and a red t-shirt. She sat on the ground and pulled on socks and her boots over the legs of her jeans. Standing, Hermione shook out her hair and Snape's eyes widened as it dried with that motion. She raised a hand and combed her fingers through her hair, and where she touched, it fell into loose curls.

"Hmmm," she murmured reflectively. "Very interesting. I feel so… strange. Kind of tingly, like I'm strung out on too much sugar." She turned to face Snape then. "How do I look? Do I look like I've been out of it on a blood overdose for the last four days?"

Snape's lips curved into a smile then and he shook his head. "No, you don't. You look… fine. Your eyes aren't the colour of blood anymore. That's a good thing. Shall we go?"  
Hermione's laugh at his tone of voice and his use of the word 'fine' died on her lips as a vision of her eyes filled with blood flicked through her head. She stood tall, held her head high, and then strolled through the wall. Professor Snape rolled his eyes and followed.

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Upstairs in the main hall voices chattered happily and the ceiling of floating candles glittered in a multitude of colours, twinkling like fireflies, or fairies. Hermione stepped through the door and stopped dead so unexpectedly that professor Snape walked into her. The scents that invaded her nose were almost excruciating and her fangs lengthened against her will. She whipped around quickly, her hand clamped over her mouth, eyes wide in panic as her senses overwhelmed her, so many sounds and smells pressing down on her.

Snape took her other hand and squeezed it. "You can do it. I know you can."

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly, eyes closed, concentrating hard. After a few moments her teeth receded into her gums and she opened her eyes again. She swallowed hard and turned back to the room.  
Dumbledore was on his feet, waiting for her and she moved swiftly across the room and took a seat near the top end of the table. There were more teachers than students present and she was the only seventh year there. A few third year students at the far end of the table whispered amongst themselves and Hermione could hear every single word they said.

"Isn't she Harry Potter's friend?"  
"What's she doing with Snape?"  
"D'ya reckon she's been ill? She's very pale."  
"Did you hear she's going out with Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione reached cautiously for some mashed potato, putting a smile pile on her plate. She added a few beans and a single chipolata, and poured a minuscule amount of gravy on top of it. She raised her eyes to see most of the other students watching her curiously, and lifted her fork, pushing the food around her plate.  
"Could you pass me the water jug please," she asked Professor Snape quietly, and he handed it to her.

As she poured some water into her goblet she realised her hand was shaking, and quickly put it back down on the table. She felt extremely anxious; she could hear every sound around her as if it were coming from inside her head, hear hearts beating as loud as drums, chewing sounded like gravel crunching in her ears and when they swallowed it was like water gurgling down a drain. Hermione shuddered and concentrated hard on controlling herself. She could almost envision her panic, a small frightened bird fluttering around a cage, trying to get free, and she imagined a dark cloth being thrown over the cage, blocking out the fear. She cloaked it, and pushed it to a corner of her mind. She lifted her eyes again and saw that Dumbledore was looking at her.

"Do you feel better Miss Granger?" he asked politely, and she nodded, managing a small smile.  
"Yes, thank you Professor. I…" she hesitated, frowning. "I am sorry for the mess I made whilst I was… ill." She flashed another smile and lowered her gaze.

Dinner passed slowly for Hermione, who sat feeling awkward, alone. Normally Harry and Ron would be with her and she felt a twinge of sadness that she could not be with them. She wondered idly what they were doing, and then decided she would rather not know what she was missing.

Eventually the students left the hall, wandering back to their dormitories, and Hermione stood awkwardly in the doorway of the Great Hall, waiting for Professor Dumbledore, who walked slowly, arm in arm with Professor McGonagall, deep in discussion.

"I'm sorry to disturb you Professors." She chewed her lips nervously. "I was wondering if I could talk with both of you."  
Professor Dumbledore nodded serenely and gestured her to walk with them. Hermione fell into step behind them, and soon she was sat in a puffy chair beside the fire in Dumbledore's office, Professor Mcgonagall seated on her right, Professor Dumbledore on her left. Hermione stared moodily into the fire, her mind in turmoil. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, then opened them to see the Headmaster and Deputy Head watching her in polite silence, waiting.

"I am so sorry for what happened this week." She licked her lips and sighed. "What I wanted to talk about is… I'm concerned that I might be dangerous. I don't know right now what I'm capable of, what can happen around me. You need to know that. I think… I'm prepared to leave, if you want me to. If you think that is what is for the best." She fell silent, gazing at the fire again, almost entranced by the shapes dancing within the flames.

Professor Dumbledore took her hand gently, and Hermione looked into his blue eyes, seeing only kindness and trust there.  
"I have already asked one party to leave for the safety of my students. There is no need for anyone else to go anywhere."

"You asked Nicholai to leave?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I thought it best after the things he exposed you to. Had he not come I am sure that things would have continued as normal. I am confident that you do not present a threat to your friends or teachers, or the people of Hogsmede."

Hermione lowered her head to hide the tears that welled up, tears of gratitude and love towards the headmaster, but also of fear. She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I think that I may take a few days to work out exactly what all of this means. Somewhere remote… away from people where it's safe."

"You don't need to go!" Professor Mcgonagall interjected, rising from her chair. She coughed, embarrassed, and sat down again, blushing. "We've already lost you from all of our classes Hermione, and from Gryffindor House. You are an asset to this school, and to the wizarding world and I don't want to lose you again."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm still a Gryffindor!" she exclaimed, "and yes, I know I can't come to classes, but I'm still handing in my homework though, aren't I? Still doing the tasks and exercises you set me. As long as I am welcome I will ride out the school year." She fell to her knees in front of Professor Mcgonagall and took the teacher's frail hands in her own and squeezed gently. "I owe a great debt to this school, and to its teachers, for all that has happened to me since the summer… and for the life that you gave me before that. Magic is my world now. I'm not running away, I'm just sorting my head out."

Professor Mcgonagall nodded, tears streaming down her face, and Hermione stood and hugged the older woman carefully. She turned to Professor Dumbledore who nodded at her, his eyes twinkling with tears as well, and she kissed him on the forehead.

"I will be back," she vowed, nodding to them both. She whirled quickly and strode from room, her booted heels clicking as she jogged down the spiralling stone staircase, and she moved through the darkened corridors quickly. Snow swirled around her as she stepped out through the front doors, inhaled the night air and she sighed.

With nothing more than the clothes she stood up in, Hermione left the school, left the grounds, and wandered off into the night to find herself.


	15. Chapter 15

Fifteen

Hermione sat in the middle of a forest, legs folded beneath her, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of the night. Life teemed all around her; owls hooted, bats squeaked as they navigated their way above the trees, foxes hurried through the undergrowth as they hunted. She inhaled, focused, and opened her eyes. The world shimmered in a blue haze around her, completely silent except for the slow rhythm of her breathing, which sounded the same as the tide as it flowed in and out. Small stones and twigs and dead leaves lifted from the ground at random, floating in the air. She scrunched her eyes almost tight shut, staring intently at a big boulder a few feet from her. She inhaled deeply through her nose, controlling her breath, and right before her eyes the huge rock rose, hovering six feet above the floor.

Hermione grunted, lights winking and flashing in front of her eyes, and she closed them tightly, turning her head away. The boulder fell back to the ground with a thump that shocked the birds from the trees and sent animals chittering and skittering away. She stood up slowly, stretching as she rose, and she yawned, then covered her mouth in surprise. She ran her fingers through her hair distractedly, gathering it in one hand and taking a rubber band from her pocket, tying it up in a ponytail, looking towards the skyline, and turned away from the approaching dawn, heading deeper into the woods.

After a few minutes she reached a small hill and got onto her knees. From the outside it looked like a solid rock wall, but there was a cave set back in it. She moved around a chunk of rock that protruded, hiding it from sight, and crawled deeper in. It smelled of wolves, long gone, and as she moved further back the cave widened into a rounded cavern. There was a pile of blankets on the floor and she knelt in front of them, spreading one out on the floor before she sat on it, rolled another one up and lay down, resting her head on it. The third blanket she pulled up around her shoulders, covering her head with the heavy grey material.

It was quiet as she lay there, and as she felt the sun rising over the horizon, she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

* * *

Another night, same forest.

Hermione sat cross legged on the damp ground, once again breathing in the scents of the night, her head filled with the sounds of the night creatures hunting and hiding around her, in the great cycle of life. She concentrated on her breathing, on the pulse that beat steadily at the base of her throat, as she reached out with her mind and lifted the same bounder, effortlessly this time, without even a thought. She opened her eyes and turned her head slowly. The night animals were motionless; statues frozen in time around her, a blue nimbus surrounding them. Hermione got to her feet in one fluid motion, the crunch of her feet on twigs disjointed from the actual steps she took.

She walked cautiously towards her floating bounder and reached out a hand to touch it; the surface of the stone felt warm and smooth beneath her fingers, and she exerted the slightest amount of pressure to push it away from her. It moved silently, stiffly, and stayed in the new position when she took her hand away. Hermione took a step back and exhaled, relaxing her control, and the bounder plummeted to the ground with a crash that echoed and shook the soil beneath her feet. The night came alive again with a whoosh of sound, colour pouring back in to the landscape. A small smile of satisfaction touched her lips as she one again turned her back on the rising sun, and headed towards her resting place.

* * *

When Hermione trudged through Hogsmede on January 5th black clouds filled the sky, and icy rain dripped down her neck as she splashed along the rutted road through ankle deep mud and melting snow. By the time she had walked all the way to the castle she was soaking wet and stood just inside the front doors dripping water all over the floor. Mrs Norris glared at her from the bottom step of the stairs, and Hermione poked her tongue out at the caretaker's cat and splashed and dripped all the way down to the dungeons and her room. Torches flickered to life as she walked through the wall, wringing out her damp hair, and her eyes widened in surprise. Someone had been busy while she was away and her room had been completely renovated.

She had stepped in to a sitting room, with a big fireplace and a comfortable looking sofa in front of it. To her left was a huge bookcase filled with all her favourite books. To her right was a door, which she went through and found herself in the bedroom. The bed was an enormous mahogany four poster affair and dominated the whole room. It was hung with red velvet curtains, covered with red velvet sheets and a veritable mountain of pillows and cushions. Hermione turned around and found her new wardrobe which spanned the length of the wall. Another mahogany creation, there were two single sections, one with drawers and the other with shelves, and a double section in between them which held all her hanging clothes. She closed the heavy doors carefully and turned around again.

There was another door which led into a bathroom. This room was floor to ceiling cream marble, laced with flecks of silver which reflected back the torchlight. A square marble bathtub was sunk into the floor, a smaller version of the one in the prefects' bathroom. There was also an alcove that housed a shower cubicle with double glass doors, which was big enough to hose an entire quidditch team down in. The bathroom also held a sink, and - Hermione smiled in bemused incomprehension - a toilet.

She shrugged out of her wet clothes, padded over to the shower cubicle and turned on the water, which pounded down in a powerful stream, easing the tension in her shoulders. She sat down on the floor of the shower beneath the spray and closed her eyes. Hermione had no idea how long she sat there, but eventually she opened her eyes and got to her feet, turning the water off. She snapped her fingers and a towel flew over the top of the door; she caught it as it fell, wrapping it tightly around herself, and climbed out. From her wardrobe she took some clean clothes, dressed quickly, and brushed out her hair, pulling it back into a loose ponytail. She didn't bother with shoes or socks, and hurried through her sitting room and out into the dungeon corridor.

She made her way upstairs to the Great Hall, where dinner was just starting, and sat at the Gryffindor table at the end nearest the teachers. There were less than a dozen students there in all, only two or three from each house clustered together for company, but she was the only Gryffindor and so sat alone. Even though the smell of it burned her nose, Hermione made a show of helping herself to some of the food that had appeared on the table the moment she has she sat down and started pushing it around her plate.

She glanced up at the teachers' table and caught Professor Dumbledore's eye. She gave him a small wave, and he smiled back at her, nodding slightly.

Hermione put her knife and fork down and pushed the plate away from her. She snagged a bottle of butterbeer off the table and flicked the cap off with her thumb, taking a deep mouthful of the warm creamy beverage. The taste of it was dull, almost ashy, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust, putting the bottle down again. She leant an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand, her legs jiggling up and down as she stared around and struggled to sit still, full of nervous energy. She was bored, she was restless, and she really wished that everyone was back at school already.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the students filed out of the hall and Dumbledore made his way towards her. He extended a gentlemanly arm to her and she took it in silence, helping him walk as much as he was helping her. Close to, Hermione could feel how frail Dumbledore was and it shocked and concerned her, and she realised she had never really thought about how old he must be before. Walking beside him she could see how tired he looked, very pale with dark purple marks under his eyes; she feel the creaking and scraping of his joints as he moved; hear a faint wheeze as he breathed; hear the irregular fluttering beat of his heart.

She frowned, feeling invasive, and not liking it.

They reached the headmaster's office and Dumbledore lowered himself into the chair behind his desk with a barely audible sigh and Hermione winced at the way his joints cracked. She folded herself into a chair opposite, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them, looking around the room. Dumbledore cleared his throat and then asked politely "are you feeling better now, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded. She knew exactly why she had come to his office, and yet she was nervous of disclosing to him what she had discovered about herself. "It was a very interesting few weeks," she said softly, avoiding his eyes. "I've only fed once since I left, just last night, and I'm calm, focused, in control." She swallowed and went on. "I think it possibly easier to show you what I discovered, rather than fumble over the words to express it correctly." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focussing on the room around her, expanding her senses until she was hyper-aware of her environment.

Dumbledore had a bowl filled with sherbet lemons on his desk; she could smell their sweet and sour tang. She reached out towards them with her mind and _flexed_, lifting the bowl slowly but steadily from the desk, and the sweets lifted one by one from the bowl. Hermione opened her eyes, sucked in a deep breath and_ flexed _again, watching as the sweets spun and swirled through the air as though they were being juggled, faster and faster until they blurred. Hermione looked beyond the floating mass to meet Dumbledore's blue gaze, and the headmaster nodded and applauded quietly, and she manoeuvred the bowl back on to the surface of the desk, and dropped the sherbet lemons back into it.

"There's more," she whispered tentatively. She held out her hand and one of Dumbledore's silver instruments flew into her grasp. She held it tightly, clenching her fist and reopening it; springs and cogs and delicate shards of glass glittered and shone on her palm in the torchlight. Hermione tossed her handful of metal and glass into the air, watching as it reached the zenith of its flight and began to fall again. She flexed her fingers, and the pieces stopped in mid air, not floating, but frozen in time, each tiny piece glowing blue.

Silently, she got to her feet and reached into the nimbus, prodding a spring with her index finger; it moved a fraction of an inch while she exerted pressure, and then hung motionless once again. Using both hands, Hermione gathered the pieces into a pile and carefully placed them on the surface of the desk, sitting back down. She snapped her fingers and the instrument was reassembled and whole again, whirring and puffing gently once more.

She kept her eyes down, avoiding Dumbledore's gaze.

"I notice that you no longer carry your wand," Dumbledore said evenly, and had she been able to blush, she would have. Instead she nodded.  
"I'm not entirely certain where it is," she mumbled shamefacedly.  
"So whilst you could be demonstrating excellent wandless magic and perfect execution of non-verbal spells," the headmaster went on, "this is unlikely."

Hermione nodded again. "I don't think what I can do is wizard magic." She hesitated, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "The main reason I think that is because I can do this…" She got to her feet and twirled on the spot, disappearing. Dumbledore looked around warily, and almost jumped as she appeared at his side. She twisted and disappeared again, reappearing beside the fire. "Enough, I think," Dumbledore said weakly, and she nodded in acknowledgement and returned to her seat.

"I know as well as you that it is not possible for a witch or wizard to apparate anywhere inside this school or the grounds. I mean I'd read Hogwarts: A History before I even got to the school, and yet I can do that… I call it phasing because I'm moving through phase space. That's a physics term I think. I can understand if you're regretting your decision to allow me to stay at Hogwarts now," she said. She barely paused between sentences, forcing the words out quickly to lessen their sting, and she kept her eyes down to avoid seeing alarm or concern or any other negative emotion on Dumbledore's face.

"If it helps," she continued, "I don't feel like I pose a threat to anyone. I feel more in control now than I did before. I'm aware of everything, within myself and around me too." Hermione frowned deeply. "Perhaps a little too aware. It feels a little intrusive, knowing things that people haven't told you; things people don't want you to know."

Dumbledore mirrored her frown, and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I know how you feel. Being intuitive is often a hindrance; people don't like it when you know more than you should."  
Hermione leaned forward, her hands clenched into fists in her lap, and she shook her head. "I don't know enough about some things… I don't know enough about what is going on around me at the moment. I may have become a vampire and I have all these new abilities, but I lost sight of the fact that first and foremost I am a witch."  
She scowled, guilt coiling and writhing in the pit of her stomach like an angry snake, spitting out words because they offended and embarrassed her.

"I've been so wrapped up in myself! I've completely ignored everything else, even Harry and Ron. I have no idea what HE is up to, no idea what's happening in our world… I haven't read the Daily Prophet in months!" She fell silent, staring moodily at the silver instrument she had crushed, still stood on the desk. Dumbledore cleared his throat, and she looked up at him. Then he started to speak.

"Voldemort is still in hiding. We know he has returned, but his whereabouts remain unknown. He has not, thus far, made any attempts to claim ultimate power – the Ministry of Magic is on high alert but he has not yet attacked it. Witches and wizards up and down the country have been confounded and imperiused, to cause harm, mayhem and mischief. There have been many unexplained disappearances and deaths, in both the muggle and magical community."

Hermione nodded as the headmaster spoke, his words creating pictures that unfolded in front of her eyes. He finished explaining to her what was happening outside the walls of Hogwarts, of what the Order of Phoenix knew of Voldemort's plans to use the werewolves and the giants when he made his move, though neither item was particularly news, there had been some developments on that front. Her eyes widened in horror as she imagine wild, uncontrolled werewolves in the school, attacking her friends and fellow pupils. It would be almost as bad as if he unleashed a horde of wild vampires upon them, she thought, her gaze moving from the Dumbledore to the window beyond where she could see the sky outside lightening; it looked like it might actually be a clear sunny day.

"If you'll excuse me sir," she said apologetically, getting to her feet and jerking her head towards the window. "I have to go… It's almost dawn."  
Dumbledore got to his feet as well and Hermione shook her head, pushing him gently to sit back down. "I won't forget my place again," she whispered, patting his hand, and going to the door. She paused, her hand on the knob, and turned back to him. "Thank you for my room."

Once tucked safely away from the sunlight in her bedroom, Hermione undressed and pulled on a pair of soft cotton pyjamas. She climbed into bed, thinking of all that Dumbledore told her, and wondering what she could do about it. With a barely discernible shrug, she closed her eyes and settled down to rest.

* * *

When the Threstal drawn carriages pulled up outside the school on Sunday evening, Hermione was sat on the steps outside the front doors, waiting with barely concealed impatience. As the first carriage drew level with the doors and halted, she leapt to her feet and moved to the side of the drive, her arms folded across her chest, eyes scanning each carriage as it drew near. She knew when Draco's carriage approached; his scent hit her and her heart started hammering in her chest and her other senses went into overdrive. As the door opened and he stepped out she was overcome with the urge to run to him, but restrained herself as a redheaded boy clambered out behind him, followed in turn by a black-haired boy.

Hermione's jaw dropped and then she composed herself, grinning widely as her three boys surrounded her. There were hugs all round and then she took a step back and just looked at the three of them. "What's going on?" she asked, bemused; Harry and Ron exchanged a look. Harry smirked, Ron grinned like a Cheshire cat, and Draco actually blushed.  
"No-one in Slytherin will talk to your lover-boy any more!" Ron crowed. "I found him sat in the corridor on his trunk when I went to the loo on the train."  
Harry nudged him in the ribs, frowning. "We decided to call a temporary truce… mostly because he was presenting a safety hazard by blocking the corridor. So we invited him to sit in with us…"  
Ron sniggered. "He spent the whole time sulking in a corner! Probably because like half the of DA was in there! Luna, Ginny, Neville, Dean and Seamus!"

Hermione turned to look at Draco, who shrugged. "It was still better than sitting on my own," he murmured, and Hermione was so overcome with affection that she flung herself into his arms and kissed him fiercely. She pulled away and gathered her thoughts, collecting herself. "We should probably go inside," she said with a wide grin, "we're giving people quite a show." Grasping Draco's hand tightly, she led the way back up the steps and into the school. They got to the bottom of the stairs and Hermione hesitated, looking quickly between Harry and Ron on her right, and Draco on her left. She hugged Draco, kissing his cheek, and whispered "give me an hour, and then meet me in my room," as she pulled away. He nodded, a smile of anticipation tugging at his lips as he turned, walking away from them and towards the dungeons.

"Race you!" she said with a smiled, winking at Harry and Ron, and then raced up the stairs ahead of them, controlling her speed so that she only got to the Gryffindor common room a few seconds ahead of them. "The new password is…" she hesitated for a fraction of a second, "bowtruckle." The Fat Lady's portrait swung open and they all climbed inside. Ron held his chest and glared at her, wheezing and panting. "That is a lot of stairs for someone to run up!" he moaned, sinking into a puffy chair in front of the fire. Hermione rolled her eyes, shook her head and beckoned him to get up again, pointing at the ceiling, and they followed her up to the boy's dormitories. She shoved open the door of their room and made herself comfortable on Harry's bed, lying back with her feet up.

"You've both got new jumpers I see," she said as they sat one of either side of her.  
"Yeah," Ron said hopping back off the bed and going to his trunk. "Mum gave me one to bring back for you," he tossed a package wrapped in jolly green and red paper at her and she caught it, lazily tearing it open. A deep blue jumper fell out into her lap. She raised it to the light, smiling. "It's nice. I'll have to send Mrs Weasley an owl thanking her." She smiled again and folded it back up.

"So," she said, leaning forward eagerly, her eyes raking over both of their faces, taking in their appearances. "What did you do over the holidays?"  
Ron grinned happily remembrance. "We played a bit of quidditch in the orchard. Fred and George were home so we played two-a-side, and Ginny joined in every now and then. She's moping a bit cos she finished with Neville… spent most of the holidays in her room alone, and the rest of the time she was moaning cos you weren't there." He trailed off suddenly into awkward silence.  
"Where did you tell them I was?" Hermione asked quietly, and Harry frowned.

"Skiing in Switzerland with your parents," he mumbled, and pain flickered across Hermione's face for a moment as she thought of her mother and father, and the last time she'd seen them. She shook her head, shaking away the memories, and managed a smile. "Good. A painful lie is better than a horrific truth," she mumbled, and Ron took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Harry picked up her other hand, and she linked her fingers through theirs, staring at the velvet coverlet, tears suddenly burning her eyes. "This is so stupid," she sobbed, fighting for breath. "What the hell? I've managed to not think about them in, I don't know, five months. And you mention them once, and I'm sobbing like a little kid." She screwed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply, curling up on herself with her chin on her chest to avoid looking at them. "It all just got so… fucked up and complicated. I didn't think it would come to this. But then he kissed me and I just… I stopped thinking. I gave in. And then I did it again…"

She groaned and blew out a sigh, then stretched. She grabbed Harry's wrist and peered down at his watch. "It's getting late. I have to go now. You guys can probably still make dinner if you run all the way back down those stairs!"  
"What? What time is it? We're missing dinner?" Ron jumped off Harry's bed and hugged her briefly. "I'm starving!" he exclaimed, dashing off.  
Harry watched him go with a bemused grin, and then followed suit and hugged her more sedately. "Are you ok?" He asked as he pulled back, and Hermione shrugged, shook her head and then nodded.  
"I'll be fine." She kissed his cheek lightly, and walked beside him as they left the common room and made their way down through the castle.

"It wasn't the same without you there," Harry told her gently, and Hermione stared at the floor.  
"What could I have done? The Weasley's can't know. It's too dangerous… for them and for me." They reached the doors of the great hall and she patted his arm. "I'll see you later."

* * *

There was a little skip in her step as she hurried down to the dungeons and into her room. She ran straight into her bedroom and quickly changed, pulling on some sexy silky lingerie, and a little black dress. She pulled her hair out of the pony tail it was in and ran her fingers through it, scrunching it into loose wavy curls. Walking barefoot back into the living room, she clicked her fingers and a fire sprang to life in the fireplace. Another click and a bottle of wine in a chiller and two glasses appeared on a side table. She sat down on the sofa and crossed her legs, tapping her fingers on her knee, waiting, once again, with barely concealed impatience. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, expanding her senses beyond the room she was in, reaching out inch by inch until she could hear footsteps and voices, twisting and directing her consciousness until she was listening to the inhabitants of the Slytherin common room. A group of first years were chattering happily to each other, munching on sweets and giggling. She could make out the smacking of lips as some couple kissed in a corner. Stretching herself, Hermione pushed even harder and further until she found the one she was looking for.

He was sat on his bed, lacing up his shoes from the sound of it.  
"What are you all dressed up for?" Blaise Zabini asked scornfully, his voice dripping with contempt. "Off to bed your slut?"  
Draco snorted and pulled a jumper over his head, smoothing his hair down. "Jealousy is really unbecoming, Blaise. Get a life!" His footsteps echoed on the stone floor as he left the dormitory and stormed down the corridor; muffled again as he reached the carpeted common room.

"Draco," a simpering female voice called from a chair by the fire and he paused by the door and turned to the source, his lips pulling back into a grim but polite smile.  
"Pansy," he said politely, acknowledging her with a nod of his head.  
"Come sit with me," she said, patting the sofa beside her, leaning forward so he could see right down her top. "We never talk any more!"  
Draco blew out a sigh and averted his gaze. "That would be because you've made it very clear you don't like my girlfriend, who, if you'll excuse me, is waiting for me."

Hermione snapped back to herself, jerking off the sofa in her surprise. "Whoa." She gasped, staggered at what she had just done. Her breath came fast and her head swam. She shook herself to clear it, and smoothed the skirt of her dress with shaky hands, then leaned heavily against the mantle. She whipped around as Draco walked in and smiled it him, drinking in the sight of him.

"Hi you," she whispered and he practically ran across the room to meet her, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her fervently, his hands roving hungrily over her body to rest on her arse. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close, so they pressed against each other from chest to groin. A moan escaped her as Draco pulled out of the kiss, his lips leaving a burning trail as he rained kisses down her throat and across her shoulders, his teeth grazing against her skin, his breath hot in her ear. He eased the zip of her dress down and slid the silky material off her shoulders and down until it pooled around her feet on the floor.

Hermione held his face, guiding his mouth back to hers as she stepped carefully out of the dress and kicked it aside. Her hands found the bottom of his jumper and she tugged, pulling away for a fraction of a second as she lifted it off over his head and then met his kiss again. His fingers tangled in her hair as she unbuttoned his jeans with one hand, moving to pull at the buttons on his shirt until he was bare-chested. Draco pulled away from her to kick his shoes off and he pulled his jeans right off until he stood before her in only his boxer shorts.

He sat down on the sofa and Hermione climbed into his lap, wrapping her legs around him. She leant over him to kiss him, her hair falling around her shoulders, and he gathered it in one hand and pulled it to one side, kissing her throat. He let her hair go, his hands stroking and caressing her back and sides, even as his lips moved across her collarbone, down her chest, over the curve of her breast. He reached around her back and unclipped her bra, dipping his head to suck first one nipple and then the other.

Draco laid her down on the floor in front of the fire and looked her over, his eyes exploring her face, her curves, thrilled by the sight of her. He leant over her, one knee between her legs, propping himself up with his arms so he didn't crush her, and he kissed her deeply, his tongue moving against hers, and Hermione shivered with pleasure at the taste and feel of him. She reached up and held him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck, holding her mouth to his.

Her moan of disappointment as Draco pulled away turned to a sigh of pleasure as his lips trailed along her jaw line, and he nipped at her throat. He sat back on his heels, watching her face as he slowly removed her silk thong, teasing and caressing her skin with his fingertips as he went. He leaned over her again and kissed her, pressing himself against her, loving the feel of her cool skin, her hard nipples against his own chest. Hermione lifted her hips to his, feeling his hardness touching her through the material of his boxer shorts, and she longer for him to be inside her. She conveyed the message to him by wrapping her legs around his hips but he pulled out of her hold, kissing her again.

"Not yet," he whispered, his lips brushing against her earlobe, and he began to work his way down her body, kissing and teasing with his tongue and fingers, over her throat, down to her breasts where he spent some times sucking, licking and biting her nipples, causing her to cry out and arch beneath him. Hermione was panting as he kissed down her stomach, her fingers tangled in the shag pile of the rug beneath her. Draco pushed her legs apart, his fingers kneading and stroking her thighs, and he ran his tongue over her clit, tasting her.

Hermione went rigid, her breath catching in her throat as he repeated the move and followed it through by slipping his tongue into her. He worked on her with his tongue, bringing her to the edge and then moving away to kiss the inside of her thighs before taking his mouth to her and bringing her to the edge again, and again. "Please, please, oh gods please don't stop!" she begged, her eyes burning as she watched him. He flicked his tongue over her once more and then pulled back, yanked his boxer shorts down and thrust himself into her in one fluid movement, burying himself in her wetness.

He slid one arm beneath her, pulling her tightly against him as he withdrew and plunged into her again. He found her mouth and kissed her fiercely, hard enough to bruise and she clenched around him in an orgasm, gasping, biting his lip as her body tensed and trembled. Hermione licked away a small drop of blood, wrapped her arms and legs around him and rolled so that he lay on the rug and she was in top of him.

Draco looked up at her, his hands on her hips as she moved with him. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, her hair bouncing off her shoulders as she rode him faster and harder, and as she felt him start to tremble, Hermione bent over him, one hand on either side of his head, looking deep into his eyes as he pounded desperately into her for a few more thrusts and climaxed, his mouth opening and closing, his entire body slicked with sweat, and then he lay still, spent.

He watched as she quickly stood and then sat down beside him, her legs folded beneath her. Hermione looked down at him. "I missed you," she told him quietly, and Draco pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. "I missed you too," he replied gently, reaching out and touching her cheek. "More than I would have ever believed."  
He shivered suddenly and Hermione smiled and stood up. She took a blanket from the back of the sofa and shook it out, lying down beside him and pulling it over them both. He put his arm around her shoulder and Hermione leaned her head against his chest, listening to the thumping beat of his heart. Draco played absently with her hair, winding her ringlets around his fingers.

"You didn't feed from me," he murmured, and it seemed to him that she froze against his side.  
"I'm not hungry," she whispered tremulously.  
"And it's taken me until right this second to notice that something's not right about your kiss," he went on as if she hadn't spoken. "No teeth."

Hermione sat up slowly, turning to face him, and found he was staring up at her with open curiosity. "Something happened while you were away," she began hesitantly," looking away from him to gaze into the fire. "Nicholai took me to this place and something happened and now I don't need to feed as often and my teeth only come out when I feed."  
Draco sat up as well, pulling the blanket around his waist. He scooted closer to her, laid a warm hand on her knee. "**What** happened? **Where** did he take you?" He put a hand under her chin and tried to turn her head to face him, but she resisted and continued to stare morosely into the fire.

"He…" she sucked in an unnecessary breath. "He took me to a blood orgy. It's a vampire playground where you drink and exchange blood and a whole lot of other things. I fed on everyone in that place and then I passed out. And when I woke up I couldn't remember anything and I was wearing hardly any clothes and he was there and I felt ill, which was so frightening – I haven't felt anything like that since I was turned. And then we were outside and I was rolling in the snow with him and I was so hungry again and I fed on him and then…" she stopped, gasping for breath, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Then I don't remember except I work up in the dark and I was chained to the floor with dragon fetters and Snape tells me I trashed my room. And I was unconscious! And I didn't want to be chained up so the fetters unlocked and I've spent the last two weeks alone in a forest trying to control this raw wild power that seems to be boiling in my blood." Hermione fell silent, wiping her eyes on a corner of the blanket. "You can run away now," she whispered, "I won't hold it against you."

Draco was sitting very still and quiet, like a mouth that had smelled the cat creeping up behind it. "Did you sleep with him?" he asked tonelessly, and Hermione stiffened.  
"I don't know," she sobbed, shaking her head. "I don't think so. Look at me," she pleaded. "Please look at me."  
Draco closed his eyes and struggled to his feet, letting the blanket drop. "I need a minute to think," he told her and walked through the door into her bedroom. She heard the bathroom door close behind him, and hugged her knees, silent tears rolling down her face.

She didn't like the way it made her hurt inside, the thought that he would walk away tonight and not ever speak to her again. She rested her forehead on her knees and took a few shaky breaths, trying to calm herself down, though her body still shook with her sobbing. She raised her head and stared into the fire again, almost entranced by the flickering shapes created by the flames, and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

She got gracefully to her feet and started moving around the room, picking the blanket up from the floor and folding it neatly, returning it to its position on the back of the sofa. She bent and picked up Draco's clothes, putting them in a neat pile, and she was just pulling her underwear on when the bathroom door opened, followed by the bedroom door, and Draco stepped out, his face pale, his eyes reddened as though he too had been crying.

He walked directly up to her and took her by the shoulders, looking intently into her face, his silver grey eyes piercing her to her soul.  
"I don't care if you slept with him or not," his voice was husky, and he sounded a little breathless. "If you say you didn't I will trust that. I honestly don't know where this thing with me and you is going but I'm not ready for it to be over yet." Hermione nodded, weak with relief, and laid her head against his bare chest, sighing deeply.  
"Thank you," she whispered, and he pulled back from her, held her away at arms length. "What you are scares the hell out of me sometimes, and god knows maybe I am completely stupid, but I'm not afraid of you." He hugged her again tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and they spoke no more about it. Hermione led him into her bedroom and they lay cuddled together in her enormous bed until morning.

* * *

Hermione stared out of the window at the falling snow and wrapped her folded her arms across her chest, leaning back against the wall, snuggling into the oversized jumper she had borrowed from Draco. She was sat on one of the high window sills in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for Harry and Ron to return from quidditch practice. Even though it was only eleven o'clock in the morning, she was able to comfortably walk around the castle – it has snowed constantly for 2 weeks and the sun had yet to break through the thick fluffy clouds that filled the sky from horizon to horizon. Both Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall told her it was the coldest winter either of them could recall at Hogwarts. Hermione had attended breakfast each morning, before spending her days in the library reading anything and everything she could lay her hands on. Always a fast reader in the past, she now found that she could finish a book in no time at all and recall the contents perfectly.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Hermione could see her boys struggling back though the snowdrifts towards the castle, their red cloaks in contrast to the sparkling white snow, and she leapt down lightly from her high perch. She went up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and picked up dry towels for Harry and Ron, and then back down to the common room to snag them the two chairs nearest the fire. After a while most of the team trooped through the portrait hole, damp and shivering, snow sticking to their shoes and the bottom of their robes in clumps. Ginny smiled at her and headed straight for the girls dormitories and a hot shower, followed by Clara Wills, the female beater.

"Sit," Hermione commanded, ushering Harry and Ron into the warm seats. Harry took his towel from her with a grateful look, and used it firstly to wipe off his snowed speckled glasses. Ron threw his towel over the arm of the chair, having dried his hair off, and pulled his boots off, peeled his wet socks off, and dried his feet, groaning. Hermione smiled as she watched the two of them, feeling a twinge of regret that most of the time she missed scenes like these. Silently, she moved to the fire and lifted a flask from the hearth, pouring them both big mugs of hot chocolate and handed them one each. "How did it go?" she asked, and Ron looked at her wearily.

"Its hard work flying in that wind," he grumbled, holding his mug in both hands to warm his chilled fingers.  
"And the snow makes it hard to see the snitch," Harry signed. "If the weather carries on like this we're all going to have our work cut out for us next week." He shrugged and sipped his drink.  
"Well I for one kind of hope it does stay like this," Hermione told them quietly. "It means I might be able to watch the game." Harry half smiled at the thought and shrugged again.  
"I guess we'll see."

* * *

The weather changed on Wednesday afternoon and weak sunshine shone down on Hogwarts, causing Hermione to retreat back down into the darkness of her rooms. On Friday night she went to the Gryffindor common room to wish the team luck, and apologise to Harry and Ron that she wasn't going to be able to watch.  
"We understand," Harry said, patting her hand.  
"Not worth the risk," Ron agreed, and so she hugged them both and said goodnight.

Draco was waiting for her when she got back to her room and spent the evening snuggled in his arms on the sofa. On evening like these she had learned about his home life: his mother's love and his father's hatred; of how he had been exposed to anti-muggle attitudes and pure blood elitism since he was old enough to speak. He asked her questions about her childhood, about how she had been raised in a work without magic, and he was amused and genuinely curious about that way of life.

Tonight they were just content to be in each other's company with no need to talk, though Hermione asked if he was going to watch the match in the morning. "No," was his response. "I'd rather spend the time in bed with you."  
"I like that idea," she chuckled, and kissed him.

* * *

Snow was falling lightly around them and Hermione frozen between Ron and Harry, facing a crowd of people. Her teeth were out and she knew her eyes blazed fiercely.  
"Vampire…" the whispered word was spreading like wildfire. She backed away from the staring eyes and the whispers about her, turned and fled.  
The edges of the world blurred as she ran and suddenly she hit something solid which knocked her down. She lay in the snow, mildly stunned, and felt hands on her arms, yanking her to feet. She looked up, found she was being held by a hooded, robed figure, and jerked her arm away. Moving so quickly there was no way the stranger could have avoided it, she ripped the hood down. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up into rotted scabbed face of a dementor. Hermione tried to pull her other arm free of the dementor's disgusting grip, only to be dragged closer. She started fighting, really fighting; panicked, and found herself being pulled closer still, inch by inch to the cloak covered body, and then the dementor leaned in for a kiss. The air was split by a terrified scream.

Hermione jerked upright and awake in the same instant, staring around the room for the source of the noise only to realise that it was her who has screamed. Her teeth were out and she put a shaking hand to her mouth only to find that she was crying too. Draco's arm was warm around her shoulder and she realised her was awake and holding her gently, rubbing her back. She turned to look at him with wide fearful eyes.  
"What's wrong?" He asked in a low voice and she shuddered.  
"I just had a terrible nightmare," more tears fell and she wiped them away on the sleeve of her pyjamas.

"It was just a bad dream," he soothed, stroking her hair, and she shook her head.  
"You don't understand," she whispered. "Vampires don't dream. I haven't dreamt since before I was turned." She shook her head again and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I woke you up," she laid back down and he lay beside her, pulling her into his arms, and she pressed her face against his chest, taking in the scent of him. He kissed her forehead and she closed her eyes, trying to calm down. "What was it about?" He enquired, and she shuddered again involuntarily.

"I had been revealed as a vampire in front of the entire school. The dementors were coming for me." Draco played with her hair, stroking and twirling it around his fingers, soothing her. "it was just a dream," he repeated, but the words sounded hollow to her and did not relieve her anxiety in any way. The torches cast flickering shadows over the walls which reminded her all too much of the shadowy figure in her dream. It was a long time until she could face closing her eyes again.

* * *

It was dark where she was. Hermione knew, without knowing how she knew, that here and now was before the other thing, even though she could not remember what the other thing was. Snow was falling around her and she had the strangest sense of déjà vu, and yet she had never been here before. She moved forward and the snow crunched beneath her boots, distracting her. She looked down and saw three footprints but no more, and wondered how she had come to be in this place. Hermione looked around, trying to focus, to centre herself, and became aware of sound, very faint, as though it was coming from far away, and she walked towards it. One moment in darkness and shadow, the next in light so bright she had to cover her eyes. After a few second she adjusted and lifted her head, and looked around again. She was stood in the middle of a snow covered field, surrounded on all sides by high wooden stands, filled with row upon row of children.

_The quidditch pitch._

She registered now the distant sounds she could hear as yells and cheers, and she cast her gaze upwards. People moved above her, shooting across the sky on broomsticks, their speed at odds with the silence that pressed down upon her. A lone figure caught her eye, circling restlessly above the others, his quick eyes watching for a flash of light, a hint of gold. He was looking directly at her. Hermione was frozen again, colder than the snow. The other broom mounted figures seemed to pick up speed, blurring as they moved, but he slowed down. She could see the confusion on his face as his broom halted in the air, and then shock as he was struck. Sound crept back to accompany the sight in time for an explosion to shake her to the core, and echoes reverberated around the stadium.

A single scream filled the air.

Hermione was on her feet and moving even before she had actually fully woken. She grabbed her dirty jeans from a pile of washing on the floor and pulled them on and forced her through the straps of a bra. Draco's pale, panicked stricken face swam into focus and she saw him hesitate, and then felt him slap her. She fell silent, and it took her until that moment to realise she had been screaming again. As before, her face was streaked with tears and her teeth were out, but she didn't care. "Something's going to happen," she panted, yanking on a sweater, snarling in frustration when she couldn't find any shoes.

Draco didn't say anything but started to dress hastily as well. Hermione shook her head. "I can't wait, I have to go now."  
Draco looked at his watch. "It's morning, the sun is supposed to be shining out there."  
Hermione shook her head again. "I don't care," she kissed him quickly on the cheek and took off running barefooted, streaking through the school fast as lightening, and before Draco could even register that she had left the room she had reached the main entrance and stood frozen before the front doors, trapped by the sunlight.

Hermione bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. Her mind raced as she tried to work out what to do, and in another instant she turned on the spot and was gone, phasing out of the castle and into the grounds. Draco reached the hall just in time to see her vanish into thin air.  
"Shit," he cursed, and burst through the front doors, sprinting across the ground to see what awaited him on the quidditch pitch.


	16. Chapter 16

Sixteen

The crowd cheered and roared excitedly above her as a goal was scored.  
"Another ten points for Gryffindor," the commentator announced, but Hermione barely heard. It was dark where she was and she moved across a rough dirt floor, creeping towards the light until she could see the snow covered grass of the quidditch pitch.

She was beneath the stands, she could feel the presence of hundred of humans above her, pressing on all of her senses, and yet there was only one she was looking for.  
Hermione could see him high above her on his broomstick, circling restlessly, looking for the snitch.  
_Harry.  
_The snow on the ground was thick, and even as she watched big fat flurries began to fall again.

Hermione sighed in relief and crept right out from under the stands and stood with her back pressed against the wooden wall. She moved slowly around the rim of the pitch, not wanting to take a single step forward for fear of triggering the sequence from her dream, heading towards the stairs, still tense, waiting for the event that had brought her here to begin.  
She didn't take her eyes off Harry as she quickly climbed the steps and made her way through the clustered cheering children around her, shoving forwards until she reached the far end where the Gryffindor 7th years were sitting.

She greeted Neville, Seamus and Dean, and Lavender and Parvati coolly, not once taking her eyes from the sky.  
"Who's winning?" She asked distractedly, and Dean answered that Gryffindor were, of course.  
She half smiled at that but it froze on her lips as an electric tingle ran through her. Something was happening. Her mouth was dry and she felt dizzy as, in slow motion, history repeated; Harry jerked violently in mid air, his broom bucking wildly beneath him.

There were gasps of panic from the spectators that became screams of terror when his broom exploded, splinters and bristles flying in every direction, burning as they floated to the ground, sooty grey embers in juxtaposition to the sparkling white snow.  
Her heart was in her mouth as she watched Dumbledore stand and wave his wand in Harry's direction. Nothing happened, and she could see the bafflement on the headmaster's face even from this distance.  
There was nothing for it.

She grabbed the guardrail at the front of the stands and pulled herself up in one swift motion, faster than the human eye could track.  
"Hermione!" she heard Draco scream her name from somewhere behind her. She didn't even look at him but glanced at Harry, calculating his position and the speed of his fall, and threw herself over the edge of the parapet, phasing as she jumped.

She rephrased just 10 feet from the ground, her calculations right on the mark, and caught Harry as he plummeted out of the sky.  
She grunted as her body absorbed the impact of the fall, knowing that if he had hit the ground he would have been killed instantly.  
She twisted in mid air with him, phasing back to the ground, and laid him carefully on the snow, her eyes raking over his body, scanning for injury.

There were three gashes that ran the length of his face, from his forehead, down his nose and through his lips, and even as she watched they began to ooze sticky black liquid.  
It looked like he had been mauled by an animal, but there was no way that was possible.  
Oblivious to what was going on around her, Hermione carefully patted down his body, checking for further cuts or broken bones, of which there were none. She reached out with shaking fingers to touch the sticky ooze, to taste it.

She snarled as she was seized from behind and dragged bodily away from Harry. She whipped her head from side to side, trying to wrench herself free, taking in the scene.  
The whole school had descended onto the quidditch pitch, half swarming around Harry and the other half trying to restrain her, to keep her away from him.  
"Let go of me," she screamed furiously, growling and snarling at her captors, who seemed to mostly be Slytherin sixth and seventh years.

Hermione bellowed in fury, phasing, and was back at Harry's side in an instant.  
She carefully pushed the crowd back with her mind, holding them behind an invisible barrier.  
Less than three minutes has passed since Harry's broom had first bucked and yet she could smell death on him.  
Ron knelt besides her, staring down at Harry battered visage.

"Don't touch him," Hermione snapped as he reached out to touch the black ooze as she had done. "I'm pretty sure that's poison."  
Dumbledore stood over them and Hermione looked up at him with pleading in her eyes.  
"Do what you have to," Dumbledore told her hoarsely, his eyes shining wetly behind his glasses. She nodded her head and swallowed her fear, bending low over Harry, her face to his and she began to lick his wounds, cleaning them carefully with her tongue.

The black stuff made her head swirl and her stomach turn, but she persisted, cleaning out each of the gashes.  
Once they were clear they bled normally, and the smell of death was fading.  
Hermione glanced around to see the whole school was watching her every move. She lifted her arm to her mouth, her fangs extended, and bit into the soft flesh of her own wrist.  
She dipped two fingers of her free hand in the blood that welled up and dabbed it gently onto Harry's wounds, watching them heal and fade immediately.

Still he lay motionless.

She could hear his heart pounding in his chest as his body fought the remnants of the poison in his system and she hesitated before letting a few drops of her blood drip onto his tongue. His eyes flew open and he struggled to sit up, but Ron held him down by the shoulders.  
"Take it easy Harry," he warned.

"He'll be okay now," Hermione told Dumbledore, and she released her hold on the crowd, letting the invisible wall drop.  
She stayed where she was, leaning over Harry, sniffing him.  
Magic as dark as that which had been used on Harry left a tangible trace upon the caster, and she caught the barest whiff of the scent in the air, mingled in with so many other smells and almost blocked out completely by Harry's blood, which seemed to call to her.

Hermione rose to her feet fluidly, feeling the crowd part before her. The whispers washed over her, unheard, and she tilted her head back, her face turned to the breeze and suddenly it hit her, assaulting all of her senses at once and she staggered, hissing in automatic response. She turned, sniffing all the people around her, matching names to scents, pushing through the crowd, bending low to the ground like a bloodhound on a trail.

Her senses roared at her as she passed over that one scent, dark magic mingled with fear.  
She growled, and her fellow pupils hastily scrambled away from her as she broke into a run. She had no need to track or search anymore, her only instinct was to chase and she loped across the snow covered ground, catching him in seconds, though he had managed to reach the gates.

"Traitor," she snarled, knocking him to the ground and pinning him down with the weight of her body.  
Her hands found his throat. Argus Filch stared up at her, fear and excitement, revulsion and contempt all fighting for control of his face.  
"I should kill you right now," she hissed, trembling with need, fighting the desire to end him right there and have justice meted out.  
She didn't move as she heard people approaching from behind, and did not resist as Draco looped and arm around her waist and lifted her off Filch, holding her tightly against him.

Hermione watched, snarling and growling like an angry dog, as professor Dumbledore bound Filch with enchanted ropes, tying his wrists behind his back.  
Professor Snape held the caretaker securely as Dumbledore searched through his pockets and came up with a wand. Hermione sniffed it when he held it out to her and inclined her head, tremors running through her as the scent hit her again.  
"That's the wand that cursed Harry," She affirmed.

Dumbledore looked grave, staring down at Filch with those piercing blue eyes.  
"Why did you do it Argus?" he asked evenly, his tone friendly.  
"Screw you Dumbledore" came Filch's reply, spat between clenched teeth, and Hermione pulled out of Draco's arms, walking quickly away before she was overcome with her desire to kill Filch.

She hurried back to the quidditch pitch to find Madam Pomfrey examining Harry, the rest of the Gryffindor team surrounding them and shielding him from prying eyes, while professor McGonagall was in charge of calming the frightened crowd and directing them back to the school.  
"With me please Miss Granger," she said, rounding up a bunch of first years who were trying to look over the shoulders and between the legs of the quidditch team to gawk at Harry.

"I want to go with him," Hermione protested, as the team backed away and Madam Pomfrey bewitched Harry's stretcher to float and started back towards the castle, flanked by Ron and Ginny.  
Draco put a hand on her arm. "I'll go with him," he told her gently, ducking his head to meet her gaze. "They need you." He kissed her cheek lightly and jogged after them.

"Hermione, we need to go, professor Dumbledore is waiting."  
Hermione sighed and trudged forward grudgingly, not even bothering to rein in her pace for the humans, striding ahead of them impatiently.  
She was sat waiting on the bottom step of the main staircase when the little group arrived, shaking snow out of their hair and stamping it off their shoes.  
"Back to your dormitories immediately, your prefects are expecting you," McGonagall told the first years, who immediately scurried off in different directions. "Shall we," she said to Hermione, leading the way up the stairs.

"What's going to happen now?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound sulky but failing.  
"Professor Dumbledore will have contacted the Ministry by now and they will have dispatched aurors to come and collect Mr Filch."  
Hermione ground her teeth together at the traitor's name. "I want to kill him," she hissed vehemently, her hands clenching into fists.  
"But you won't," McGonagall replied evenly. "We won't allow it."

Hermione snorted but remained silent. The gargoyle that guarded the entrance to professor Dumbledore's office and McGonagall told it the password, the archway opened, the gargoyle moved aside and they stepped onto the spiralling stone staircase.  
The door at the top stood open and they entered to find Filch tied to a chair with professor Snape stood over him, enraged.

"My whole stock is ruined," he ranted, glaring at Filch.  
Professors Dumbledore, Flitwick and Sprout were seated in armchairs and all looked up as they entered.  
"Ah, Hermione," Dumbledore greeted her cheerfully, getting to his feet and she waved a hand irritably, urging him to sit back down. "There seems to have been a problem with professor Snape's stock of veritaserum. Somehow it has all been tainted with powdered scarab beetle which, as I am sure you know, renders it completely useless."

Hermione nodded silently and he smiled at her.  
"I was hoping you would use your…" he faltered for a microsecond, "talents to assist us."  
She nodded again, sighed, and moved towards Filch, who tried to back away from her approach. She sneered and knelt in front of him, ignoring the way he cowered and flinched at her proximity.

"I'm guessing you want to know why, who and how?" she asked, twisting to look at Dumbledore over her shoulder, and he nodded.  
"Very good," he gestured for her to proceed, and sat down next to the heads of house, the five of them forming a loose circle with her and Filch in the middle.

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, taking deep even breaths in and releasing them slowly. She focused on Filch, blocking out the others completely, and reached up without opening her eyes and grabbed one of Filch's wrists, which were tied to the legs of the chair.  
He immediately tried to squirm away from her touch and whimpered as she squeezed.

"I have no qualms about hurting you," she told him calmly, her face serene. "I honestly don't care if you walk out of this room or not. But you don't want to die, do you Filchy?"  
As she said his name Hermione opened her eyes and raised her head to capture his gaze.  
He shook his head, licked his lips nervously, unable to look away from her. "No," he croaked, and she smiled brightly.

"You might want to keep me happy then," she warned him, "since your chances of walking away from me will dramatically decrease if you upset me. Do you believe that?"  
Filch nodded desperately.  
"Good," Hermione started at him, unblinking. "Tell me about today Filch, tell me about the curse you used on Harry potter."

Filch opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, his teeth clicking together audibly.  
"I thought that might happen," she whispered. "He can't talk," she told the teachers. "He's been enchanted, he can't speak of these dark things."

"Is there no way to find out the truth?" professor Flitwick asked behind her, and Hermione looked into the fire, gritting her teeth.  
"Of course there is. I'll have to go into his head."  
Filch's eyes widened in fear as she got to her feet, and Hermione sat in his lap, wrapping her legs around the back of the chair.

"Don't move," she warned him, resting her forehead against his and placing her index fingers on his temples.  
She could feel his pulse pounding furiously beneath her fingertips, smell his sour breath as he exhaled in her face, hear his galloping heart.  
She could taste his fear, but it wasn't enough. She needed to go deeper, and she did not know what she was doing.

Hermione paced her breathing with his, inhaling as he inhaled, exhaling as he exhaled, and there suddenly came a moment when she was rendered blind, deaf and mute, completely senseless, floating in nothingness, and then she was inside.

She could see her own face through Filch's eyes, smooth as marble, eyes closed, her mouth open with her fangs indenting her lower lip.  
She blinked, and the vision of her face faded to black and then was replaced by a scene in brilliant white.

* * *

Snow lay thickly on the ground, sparkling, and fell around him, dazzling him as he walked; the crunch of his footsteps went unheard as the crowd cheered again, and he stepped out of the light and into the darkness under the teacher's stand.

Reaching into his robes, Filch withdrew a wand from his pocket and stared down at it in wonderment for a moment, flooded with emotion as his eyes moved over the ruddy wood, and he ran a trembling finger over the smooth surface, caressing it.  
_My wand,_ he though fiercely, and then turned back to the job at hand.  
No-one was looking in his direction, no-one saw him as he poked his head back out into the light – they were all focused on the air, on the figures flying above.

He squinted at the sky and almost breathed a sigh of relief as a thick cloud covered the sun.  
He could see _him_ now, the one, and raised his wand, pointing at the boy clad in red who circled higher than the others.  
"_Venenum depraedor_," he murmured, and the wand tip glowed purple momentarily as the spell was cast.  
He withdrew back into the darkness and waited for the reaction. Shrieks and shouts and screams reached his ears and he nodded, satisfied, and slunk away, his mission complete, and he headed for the school gates, ready to make his escape.

He was rounding the lake, well past the school.  
"Let me go," he heard the scream behind him and froze in fright, his muscles locked in fear.  
It was her, the other one. She would know.  
Panicked, he broke into a run, struggling through the snow, wheezing. Then he could hear nothing but the wind in the trees as he got further away, the school gates were in sight now and he slowed a little, clutching at his sides and gasping for breath.

Suddenly he was face down in the snow, the cold burning his throat, and then was flipped unceremoniously onto his back.  
She sat on his waist, pinning him down, her hands closing over her throat, her eyes burning as she scowled down at him.  
He tried to struggle, to throw her off, but she flexed her fingers and it became difficult to breathe so he stopped. The world shimmered and became hazy, and Hermione was back in Dumbledore's office, her forehead still pressed to Filch's.

* * *

She blinked and pulled back, looking around the room in wonderment, and then shook herself.  
She turned to face the teachers, who were all staring at her with wide eyes. She untangled herself from Filch and stood in front of the fire, warming herself, holding her head.

"Did it work?" professor McGonagall asked, and Hermione turned to face her, nodding.  
"Yes, it did. The spell he used… I've never heard anything like that before."  
"What was it?" professor Dumbledore asked hoarsely, reaching for her hand, and she went to him, perching on the arm of his chair.  
Hermione lowered her gaze to the floor, playing the scene over again in her head.

"Venenum depraedor," she murmured, whipping her head back up to meet Dumbledore's eyes, a frown creasing her forehead.  
"What is that?" She asked herself, letting go of Dumbledore's hand and pacing in front of the fire.  
"_Venenum_… venom? Toxin? No, no it's poison. And then d_epraedor_… that's damage? Or is it wreck? Ruin? No, depraedor is ravage. Poison and ravage." She put a hand to her mouth, anger flowing through her veins hotter than fresh blood and she turned to face Filch, her teeth lengthening.  
She panted, shaking with the need to hurt him, and pressed herself against the wall, drawing ragged breaths.

"Hermione, control your anger." Dumbledore's hand was on her shoulder, patting her reassuringly, and she closed her eyes, feeling her fangs recede.  
She exhaled and opened her eyes to see Filch looking terrified, struggling against his bindings again.  
Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder gently and then retreated back to his chair.

"Filch couldn't come up with a spell like that himself," she said quietly, taking a measured step forward. "He's a squib. The power has come from somewhere else. Someone else."  
She clambered back into the caretaker's lap, her hands on either side of his face, and lightly pressed her forehead against his again.  
"Further back," she whispered. She went in quicker this time.

* * *

Filch sat alone in the Hog's Head at a small table beside the fire, nursing a glass of firewhisky and staring moodily into the flames.  
He didn't look up at the sound of approaching footsteps, didn't look up as another glass of firewhisky was plonked down on the table in front of him. He winced as a scraping chair broke the silence of the nearly empty pub.

"Don't know why you bother coming in here," the newcomer grumbled, hunching over a mug of mead.  
"I only came in for a quiet drink," Filch replied, raising his eyes to study the man opposite him. "Don't see you aroynd here all that often," he commented, and his companion snorted and then let out a short bray of laughter."  
"Not bloody likely," he sniggered, before taking a big swig of his mead. His face became serious again. "I only come here on special occasions."

Filch met the man's gaze for the first time that night and froze.  
"What do you want with me?" he asked hoarsely, pushing the fresh glass of firewhisky away slowly as if it might explode.  
His companion snorted again. "Can't I just want to see you at Christmas cousin?" he laughed, and pushed the firewhisky back to Filch.  
"You don't ever do anything without a reason Deagle," Filch said, carefully, avoiding his cousin's gaze.

Deagle Fintan shrugged and supped some more of his mead. "How's it going up at that school of yours?" he asked casually, and Filch studied him, suddenly deeply suspicious.  
"Same as usual," he mumbled and downed the rest of his first drink. "Got to be going," he stumbled to his feet, pulling his cloak up over his shoulders and edging around his cousin towards the door.

"Wait!" Deagle cried, grabbing Filch's wrist. "I got something for you." He started rummaging around in his pockets and Filch sat down again slowly, glaring at his cousin curiously.  
Deagle drew a long narrow box from beneath his cloak and laid it on the table, pushing it across the splintering wood until it was directly in front of Filch.  
"What is this?" He asked, his hands twitching towards the box.  
"A present," Deagle replied, watching Filch over the rim of his mug. "Something you've always wanted."

Filch gulped and lifted the lid off the box, his breath catching in his throat. "What is this?" he asked again stupidly, unable to take his eyes off the wand nestling in green tissue paper.  
"Something you've always wanted," Deagle repeated, edging closer to Filch, moving his chair around the table to he was sat right next to him.  
"The dark lord wants you to have this gift." Deagle whispered in his ear, lifting the wand from the box and placing it in Filch's limp hand.

Filch trembled as his fingers closed around the wand. "I don't understand," he mumbled, licking dry lips with a dry tongue. "I'm a squib. Wands don't work for me. I don't have any magic in me."  
Deagle shook his head vehemently. "The dark lord explained it to me. Not here though." He finished his mead and stood up. "Come with me."  
Filch looked up at his cousin dumbly.  
"Come on," Deagle hissed, poking him in the shoulder.

Filch got to his feet and staggered out of the pub after him, following him up the road, mumbling and gibbering, staring at the wand in his hand.  
_I should throw it away,_ he thought dimly, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to let go of it.  
"In here," Deagle called, clambering over the fence surrounding the shrieking shack.  
"We can't go in there," Filch cried, stopping dead in the middle of the road, it's haunted."  
Deagle sighed and glared at his cousin in disgust. "You believe that? It's all lies. There never was a single ghost."

By now Filch had scrambled over the fence too and was lurching through weeds and knee high drifts of snow until they reached the door.  
"It was just a loony werewolf. A werewolf that that loony headmaster allowed to attend the school. And teach at the school."  
_You should hear what they've got up at the school now,_ Filch thought, but the words could not pass his lips.

"Doesn't it rile you?" Deagle demanded, flicking his wand at the fireplace where flames leapt to life in the hearth. "He allows half-breeds and mudbloods in that school while you, a pure blood wizard cleans up after them. Is that right? It that fair? Where is the justice in that?"  
The whole time his cousin spoke, Filch stood examining the wand in his hand, ten inches long, made of dark red wood, smooth and shiny and silky beneath his fingertips.  
"I already told you, I'm a squib. I can't do magic!" He waved the wand vaguely to demonstrate and almost fell over as sparks shot out of the end.  
He had never managed sparks before, not even after the quikspell course he'd taken.

"What the…?" He looked at his cousin, terrified.  
"I said the dark lord wanted to give you a gift. But before you accept, you must know what is expected of you."  
Filch froze, trembling as Deagle walked right up and stood in front of him.  
"He wants you to curse Harry Potter. Not much of a hardship I'm sure. Just one curse."

Filch tore his eyes away from his cousin's face and gazed down at the wand in his hand again.  
"Just one curse?"  
"Just one," Deagle promised. "If you agree the wand is yours. If you decline then you give it back and walk away."  
Filch fell to his knees, gibbering, crying. He nodded, and Deagle held out a hand to him.

Filch took it to shake it, to seal their deal, and Deagle grabbed his arm, yanked his sleeve up touched the tip of his own wand to the exposed forearm.  
Filch shrieked as though he was being burned, not hearing the words that his cousin muttered.  
Deagle drew back and Filch looked down at his left arm.

The dark mark was branded upon his skin.

Filch fainted.

* * *

Hermione slid right out of Filch's lap and lay on her back on the floor, staring at the ceiling.  
"It was Voldemort," she whispered, sitting up and crawling towards Filch. She snapped her fingers and the ropes binding his left arm came undone.  
She grabbed his wrist, squeezing tightly as he struggled against her, and she pulled his sleeve up, exposing his dark mark.  
She dropped his arm, wiping her hands on her jeans like she'd just touched something dirty and backed away from him.

She turned to look at Dumbledore. "Voldemort approached him through his cousin, a wizard named Deagle Fintan. Related on the mother's side I think." She folded her arms across her chest and sat cross-legged in front of the fire, looking up at the five teachers.  
"Deagle gave him a wand, said it was from "the dark lord". Filch protests that he's a squib, wands don't work for him. And then he produced sparks and agreed to curse Harry."

Filch stared to cry and Hermione groaned, hugging her head.  
"Shut up!" she snapped, shooting to her feet and slapping him. He rocked in the chair and fell silent and Hermione stood over him gasping for breath and fighting against the desire to rip him apart.

"You've done very well Hermione," Dumbledore said, grasping her arm and pulling her away from the caretaker. "But now the ministry is on the way and you should not be here."  
"No, she should not be here," a voice agreed from the doorway, and the minister for magic, Cornelius Fudge, walked into the room, flanked by half a dozen aurors.  
He gestured to Filch and four of the aurors flocked around him, untying him from the chair and casting new bindings around him.

"So what happened Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded and Hermione held up her hands in a conciliatory gesture.  
"I really have to go." She started backing towards the door. "Nice to meet you minister," she mumbled politely.  
Fudge let out a bark of laughter and shook his head firmly. "I think not. I'm afraid you'll have to come with us Miss Granger. Azkaban awaits you both."  
Fudge gestured again and the remaining two aurors grabbed her, one on either side.

Hermione laughed and met professor Dumbledore's gaze. "I'll try to come back soon," she promised, and then threw off the two huge aurors like they were little boys.  
Faster than lightening she was out of the door, down the stairs and running.

* * *

Hermione stood in front of the Room of Requirement, her breath coming in panicked gasps. She had no time; they would already be coming after her.  
She closed her eyes and tried to gather her scattered thoughts, pushing her fears to one side.  
Focusing firmly on what she needed she paced in front of the blank stretch of wall, walking back and forth 3 times in the space of a second, and dashed in through the door that appeared in the wall.

She found herself in a large room, empty apart from a work table pushed up against the far wall, and a raised dais with a small stone cauldron on it.  
The room was lit by hundreds of white candles that hung from brackets on the wall, and the scent of frankincense met her nose from a thurible hanging above the cauldron.  
She took a deep breath and stepped toward the work table, running her eyes over the ingredients laid out there.

Her hand hovered over an obsidian knife and she picked it up, along with a length of white ribbon.  
Hermione folded the ribbon over on itself and used the knife to cut it into four pieces of equal size, which she laid carefully back down onto the table.  
She picked up a sprig of lavender, a sprig of rosemary and a rowan twig and bundled them together, carefully wrapping one of the lengths of white ribbon tightly around it.

Next she picked up a scrap of deep blue cloth with the eye of Horus embroidered on it in gold thread, and wrapped a silver pin and a dove feather inside it, and again bound the bundle tightly with a length of white ribbon.  
She picked up the obsidian knife again and bore a hole through a silver sickle, looping the coin on to a third piece of the white ribbon.  
Hermione knotted the ribbon twice, once on either side of the coin, and slid an agate stone with a hole in it onto the ribbon, before knotting it again so that couldn't fall off.

With the fourth and final piece of ribbon, she tied the three bundles together and dropped them into the empty cauldron.  
Hermione snapped her fingers and the obsidian knife lifted up off the table and flew into her hand. She took a breath and ran the blade over her palm, slicing her hand open and clenched and unclenched her fist quickly to get as much blood into the cauldron before the wound closed up.

She repeated the action several times until the cauldron was half full and the three bundles were completely submerged.  
She turned away from the cauldron and went back to the table, where she found a thimble full of salt. She tipped it into the potion, and knelt, waving a hand beneath the cauldron.  
Blue flames flared up and licked at the bottom of the cauldron.

Hermione sat on the edge of the dais, tucking her legs beneath her, and waited, trying not to think about anything, until she could hear bubbles rising from inside the cauldron.  
She stood back up and turned to look inside; red sparks danced on the surface of the potion which was simmering actively.  
She turned back the ingredients table and three crystal phials appeared with a gentle clink, beside a small silver ladle.  
She used the ladle to scoop the potion up and pour it into the phials, taking the time to make sure they were all full to the same level, and then reached into the empty cauldron and picked up her three bundles, the ribbons of which were now stained a deep crimson.

Hermione wrapped the bundles up in a large white handkerchief, which she carefully tucked into one of the cups of her bra before sliding the phials into her pocket, and slid the obsidian knife into one of her boots. She waved a hand vaguely at the ingredients table and it shimmered out of sight.  
Biting her lip nervously, Hermione went to the door and opened it a fraction of an inch, taking a sniff at the air beyond the door. She couldn't smell anyone in the corridor outside and so stepped out into the open, looking around with wide eyes.

"There she is," a husky voice cried, and she whipped her head up to see Harry, Ron and Draco bearing down on her, and found herself being hugged and squeezed and kissed by all three of them.  
She pulled away from them, trembling and shook her head.  
"I have to leave," she whispered, her voice breaking on the final word, and she sank to her knees right there in the middle of the corridor, her head in her hands.

"I can hear what Fudge is thinking," she told them, raising her head and staring blankly into space. "He thinks there no way Dumbledore can be right about me. How can everything they know be wrong? How could there possibly be a vampire who's not a danger to humans?"  
Hermione snapped back to the present with a gasp, pushed herself to her feet and looked into the eyes of her three boys.  
"I really have to leave," she reached out and stroked Draco's face, pulling him to her for one last kiss.

Tears rolled down her face as she drew back from him, and she gave Harry and Ron quick, desperate hugs. "You all look after yourselves."  
Hermione turned and began to walk away from them, her chest heaving as she tried to control herself, and she turned around lightening fast as she heard pounding footsteps behind her.  
Fudge appeared, holding his chest and breathing heavily, followed by the same two huge aurors who has tried to restrain her earlier.  
"Get her," Fudge shouted, and the aurors shoved past Harry, Ron and Draco.

Hermione grit her teeth, met Draco's eyes once more, and then turned on the spot and disappeared.  
"Where is she?" the Minister for Magic demanded, shaking Harry by the shoulders.  
Harry shook his head and managed a shrug. "Dunno."

"She can't have gone far," one of the aurors said, moving further down the corridor. "You can't apparate inside Hogwarts, everyone know that!"  
Draco smiled wryly as Fudge pushed him out of the way and hurried down the corridor, gesturing the aurors to follow him.  
"Find her!" The minister instructed, casting a glance back over his shoulder at the three of them before he disappeared around the corner.

"Guess we'd better get back to our dorms," Ron mumbled, and Harry nodded.  
Draco gnawed on his lower lip and sighed, shaking his head. "I'll see you guys around," he mumbled, his shoulders slumped as he trudged away.

* * *

Hermione phased to the far edge of the forbidden forest where the trees overhung the high wall that surrounded the school and grounds, falling to her knees in the snow, and began to scrabble at the ground, breaking through the snow and the dirt, digging a pit two feet deep.  
She pulled the white handkerchief out of her bra and took one of the bundles from within, dropping it into the shallow hole.  
She pulled the first crystal phial from her pocket and yanked the cork out, pouring the bloody potion over the bundle and onto the ground at the bottom of the hole.

Hermione quickly filled the hole back in, patting it down and shovelling snow over the patch of broken earth, and phased to another spot in the grounds, at the edge of the lake this time, by the steep narrow path that led from Hogsmede, where she and every other first year got their first view of Hogwarts before they crossed the lake to get to the castle.  
She repeated the same procedure again, burying the second bundle and pouring the potion over it, and a third time, just within the school gates.

With her spell started, Hermione took the obsidian knife out of her boot and plunged it into her wrist, letting out a small gasp of pain as it went right through, and she raced around the edge of the grounds, just within the wall, her blood falling as she ran, creating an unbroken line, a very rough, very large circle.  
She stopped running as she got back to the gates and pushed them open and struggled through, pulling the knife out of her wrist.  
She stabbed the bloody blade deep into the ground on the threshold and dripped blood over it, closing the gates behind her.

Finally, she smeared more of her blood on the lock, sealing the spell, and the lock glowed momentarily with red light.  
"Let them be safe," Hermione prayed, rubbing her already healed wrist, and after one last longing look at the distant castle, she took off running.


	17. Chapter 17

Apologies, but I can't get the page break ... thing to stick. So then I tried adding extra blank lines and that didn't seem to work either… So I'm hoping it's not all in one run on chapter. If it is, I'm really sorry.

Seventeen

Draco lay on his back on his bed, staring at the emerald green canopy above him, with his hands folded behind his head. The curtains were pulled shut and it would have been dark if not for a single candle he had enchanted to float just below the canopy, in the centre of the bed, the flickering light of which set shadows racing around the inside of the satin curtains.

Draco scowled, his thoughts in turmoil as he processed the events of the day. Everything had happened so fast – one minute he had been in bed with Hermione, the next he had been saying goodbye and she was gone. And that had all happened before midday. He had been interrogated all afternoon by one of the aurors, while Ron was questioned by the other, and Harry had been left to face the Minister of Magic himself.

Despite his misery and despair, Draco found himself smiling as he thought about the interview. He had been sat in Professor Snape's office, with auror Tray Shelby, a hulking heap of muscle with cold sea green eyes, short cropped blonde hair and eyebrows like caterpillars.  
"How long have you known that Hermione Granger is a vampire?"  
"Since September."

"And how did you discover this?"  
"She told me."  
"And why did you not report this immediately to the Ministry of Magic?"  
Draco grinned. "Because she took me back to her room and fucked my brains out."  
That stumped the auror momentarily but Shelby recovered admirably and continued his line of questioning.

"Has the vampire ever fed on your blood?"  
"Yes. During sex. And then she has the most intense orgasm ever, pushes me over the edge every time. It's quite breath-taking."  
Again, Shelby seemed flummoxed by the response and took a minute to process it, various expressions fighting for possession of his face, and then he moved on.

"Have you ever ingested the blood of the vampire?" His eyes narrowed with this question and Draco felt that this answer was being scrutinized even more carefully than any of the previous ones.  
_Lie_, a voice in his mind whispered, and he shook his head, his expression cool and controlled as he replied.  
"Absolutely not. Why would I do that?" He grimaced.

"How did the vampire secure your silence about her secret?"  
Draco's lips curled into a smile. "She had a fidelus charm set up, for one, no-one could know the secret unless told directly by her or the secret-keeper, and those who know can't tell anyone else." He was cautious about naming Dumbledore as Hermione's secret keeper, wondering if the headmaster was being subjected to an interview of some kind as well.  
"Secondly, she was banging my brains out every night from then on so I had no real desire to reveal or betray her."

Shelby frowned, his massive eyebrows meeting, his distaste evident. "So you have spent a significant amount of time in the company of the vampire?"  
Draco ground his teeth together and bit the inside of his cheek to keep him calm. The questions themselves were starting to bug him, but he was becoming increasingly annoyed by the auror continually calling Hermione 'the vampire.'

"Yes, I'd say so, since she is my girlfriend. We screwed lots, we studied together, we shagged, we played together and we fucked all over the school." He smiled in grim satisfaction at the way that confession made Shelby shudder.

"One final question Mr Malfoy and then you are free to go. Do you consider the vampire to be a threat to humans, whether magical or muggle?"

Draco didn't hesitate for a second. "No, not in the slightest. She doesn't kill to feed. She feels emotions as much as the next person; remorse, guilt, love, joy, jealousy, fear. She still has a soul. She's not a monster, she's a goddess, and I love her."

Draco rolled onto his side, staring now at the curtain that was the wall between him and the rest of the world. He clenched and unclenched his hands which tingled as the blood rushed back to them and the feeling returned to them, letting the events of the day slip out of his thoughts, and instead called to mind Hermione's face, the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her kiss.

He shivered, feeling cold and lonely, wondering where she was and hoping desperately that she was safe. He closed his eyes, yawning, and waved one hand lazily to extinguish the candle above him. Then he curled his arm around his head, hiding his face, and tried to sleep. It was a long time before he drifted off.

...

Ron sat quietly at the end of Harry's bed. Even though Harry had been treated by Hermione, Madam Pomfrey insisted that he had to remain in the hospital wing for the night, which suited him fine since he kind of expected to be mobbed by his fellow pupils. After he had said goodbye to Hermione and been interrogated by Fudge, Madam Pomfrey had forbidden him to leave his bed again.

Ron's face was pale and he kept swallowing uneasily. "How bad do you think it will be?" he asked, his knees drawn up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees.  
Harry grimaced and shook his head. "I think it'll be bad. People will feel betrayed. They'll be panicked and scared I reckon. But she's been here for months and no-one's been hurt. And she saved my life so…"  
He shrugged and hung his head, twisting the white sheets between his fingers.

"D'ya reckon there's any chance I can sleep in here too?" Ron mumbled, mostly to himself, and Harry found himself smiling.  
"Maybe," he chuckled softly. "I wonder where she is now," he said, looking towards the window.  
Ron followed his gaze. "Yeah, me too. I just hope she's ok." He sighed and slid off the bed. "I've got to go to the loo, and then I'm really going to ask Madam Pomfrey if I can stay here." He ran his fingers through his hair, looking towards the matron's office. "Wish me luck." And he trudged away.

Harry settled himself back against his pillows and closed his eyes, a wave of dizziness washing through him. He took a deep breath and paused to take stock. His face felt fine, his skin smooth and totally unmarked. His body was fine; he stretched, flexing his fingers and toes beneath the covers. And yet… he felt strange. He could hear Madam Pomfrey humming to herself in her office; hear the rustling of her papers and the scratch of a quill as she wrote up his latest injury. He hadn't known until today that she kept records on all the pupils she treated. Harry had a whole drawer to himself.

Harry opened his eyes again and slid his glasses off his nose, wiping the lenses on a corner of sheet absently while he stared around the room. He could definitely see more than usual without them. Normally everything was just a blur of light and colour, but now Harry could clearly see the outlines of objects. He swallowed and put his glasses back on, biting his lower lip nervously.

He couldn't remember the accident, couldn't remember being hit by the curse. He couldn't remember his Firebolt exploding and, though he felt a distant pang of sadness about it, it didn't seem important at this moment in time. He couldn't remember being caught by Hermione only feet from the ground. The first thing he could remember was opening his eyes to find himself lying in the snow with the entire quidditch team stood over him, Ron holding him down, Hermione and professor Dumbledore watching his worriedly, and a strange taste in his mouth.

Ron had told him that Hermione said he'd been poisoned, that she'd opened her veins and dabbed her blood onto his wounds, and that she'd made him drink some of it too. Harry vaguely wondered if it was the last of the poison in his blood that was making him feel funny, but he knew it was Hermione's blood.  
He sat up again as Ron came hurrying back in through the infirmary doors and closed them tightly behind him, then scurried towards Madam Pomfrey's office. Harry listened intently as Ron pleaded to be allowed to stay there with him tonight. He smiled slightly as Ron returned to his place at the foot of Harry's bed.

"She said yes," Ron told him, looking relieved but shaken.  
"What happened?" Harry asked, frowning and Ron scowled.  
"Ran into some Ravenclaw fifth years a few corridors down from the boys' bathroom. They gave me a hard time about being friends with a filthy bloodsucking vampire whore." He shrugged and yawned, clambering off Harry's bed, kicking his shoes off and climbing onto the bed next to it.

"So tired," he grumbled, pulling the covers over himself.  
"Mmmmm," Harry mumbled his agreement and took his glasses off, putting them on the bedside table. He rolled onto his side, facing away from Ron and towards the window.  
Snow swirled outside the glass pane and he shivered, hoping wherever she was, Hermione was safe and warm.

...

Hermione stopped running as she reached the outskirts of Hope, the nearest muggle settlement to Hogwarts, and walked barefoot through the thick snow. She trudged through silent streets, looking in car windows as she went, until she found what she wanted. She wiped ice and snow off the window of a green Volkswagen Polo, glanced around to make sure she was alone and not being watched, and rammed her fist through the glass, wincing at the sound. She snatched up the road atlas from the back seat and ran off.

Hermione stopped a few miles away and ducked into a bus shelter, flipping the map book open and quickly finding her present location. She tapped one finger on Hope, and quickly ran through destinations in her mind. She couldn't ask any of the Order to harbour her, that would only stir up trouble and she had already caused enough at the school. She couldn't go to her parents; they would never take her in. She couldn't go to the Weasley's, that would put them in danger. She sighed, realising the only place she could go.

Turning back to the map Hermione plotted out a route and memorised it in an instant. She left the map on the bench in the bus shelter and stepped out into the snow again, glancing down at her watch. It was early evening, only just gone 7pm so she had hours of night left before her. She pulled her hair back into a pony tail and started running again, the landscape blurring as she settled into her pace. She moved easily through thick snow drifts, concentrating on the ground beneath her feet, the obstacles in her path and she crossed fields, following the edge of the motorways until she finally reached a big city.

Hermione stopped in Inverness, wandering down a deserted street and looking around the whole time. She knew the snow was deep, a blizzard was raging around her, but she expected to see some signs of life. She huddled inside her sweatshirt and looked up at the building in front of her, an idea in her mind. She approached the bank cautiously, looking around for security cameras, and when she couldn't see any she moved right up to the cash machine

Hermione laid her palms down on the edge of the ATM and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Her parents had insisted on opening a bank account for her, even though she was at Hogwarts, and she had a cache of money, savings squirreled away for a rainy day. But her bank card was back at Hogwarts, along with her passport, and she was reluctant to do any magic in case the Ministry would be able to find her. She felt totally paranoid as she looked around again, then closed her eyes and focused on her bank card and passport, visualising them in her room at Hogwarts, picturing them exactly and imagining them appearing in her hand. She opened her eyes and looked down, and the burgundy leather-look cover of her passport was beneath her splayed fingers.

She let out a breath and pulled an elastic band from around the passport, opening it and finding her bank card inside. Hermione pulled it out with shaking fingers and slid it into the cash machine, typing her PIN number in and staring at the screen dismally. Banks put limits on how much money you could take out in one day, she knew, but she needed all of her money now and didn't want to use the card again in case Fudge hooked up with the muggle government to find her. Hermione pressed her fingertips to the screen and felt warmth pass through them. She typed in the amount of money she wanted and waited while the machine whirred and clicked, and then the cash slot opened and a huge wad of money was ejected.

She grabbed her cash, counting, and smiled slightly as she slipped the money inside her passport and wrapped the elastic band around it again. Hermione touched her pockets vaguely and shook her head. "Not secure enough," she mumbled to herself and slid the whole lot into her pants, flat against her stomach, secure beneath her jeans. She took a breath and moved quickly away from the bank, running down the high street, leaving no footprints behind her. The further out she moved, the more houses she came across with cars parked outside, buried beneath a blanket of snow.

Hermione found exactly what she was looking for outside a big house with lights on behind the windows. She watched carefully for a few minutes but no-one came near the window, so she reached for the door handle of a shiny black Porsche Cayenne and opened it, killing the alarm with magic, and heaved herself up into the driving seat. She ran her hands around the steering wheel and closed her eyes, absorbing the knowledge of how to drive from the vehicle itself.

Her eyes flickered open and she shuddered, pulling the seatbelt on and adjusting all her mirrors. Hermione quickly considered the best way to do this, and decided it was probably a good idea to have the key, so she focused on the key, which she knew was hanging from a hook in the kitchen of the big house. It appeared in her hand and she rammed it into the ignition and cranked the engine over, giving the car a second to warm up, and then pulled away from the kerb, glancing in the rear view mirror at the house. No movement… no activity. She was on her way.

She had driven for miles and miles and miles; the further south she got, the more the weather improved and the faster she could drive. By the time she reached Carlisle there was no snow on the ground at all, and she was cruising down the motorway at almost 100 miles an hour. The road was quiet, and Hermione vaguely wondered why more people didn't drive to where they wanted to be at night, rather than get stuck in traffic jams in the morning, and then she smiled at the absurdity and randomness of the thought. Her hands clenched convulsively on the steering wheel as a pang of hunger hit her and she blew out a deep breath through gritted teeth. A sign caught her attention and she pulled off at the next junction and followed the road around into a service station.

Hermione pulled into a spot at the edge of the car park and got out of the car, stretching luxuriantly. She dropped her arms and sighed as another pang stuck. "Yeah yeah," she mumbled, reaching in to her pants and pulling out the money-stuffed passport. She slid a crisp £20 note into her pocket, shoved the rest of it under the drivers' seat in the car, and walked towards the building. It was almost empty and Hermione looked down at her watch to find it was just before one in the morning. A few haulage vehicle drivers sat on their own at tables in the fast food area, and Hermione bought herself a coffee, and then sat down at a table amongst them.

She held the cup tightly in cold hands, inhaling the scent of the drink, trying to overpower the scent of the men. She was horrified when she felt her fangs extend, and she put undrunk cup of coffee down on the cheap Formica table and fled back to the car. Behind the wheel again she banged her head on the steering wheel a few times. "Get a grip," she told herself, starting the car and heading towards the exit, and petrol station. The smell of fuel made her feel almost dizzy as she filled the car up, and she was very wary as she went to pay, but the little shop was closed for the night and the attendant was on the other side of a thick glass window, which was good for him since Hermione's throat was beginning to burn with her thirst.

She got back in the driver's seat, ran her fingers through her hair and sat with her hands on the back of her head, taking deep breaths with her eyes closed until she felt calm and in control again. She started the engine and pulled out of the petrol station, heading back on to the motorway, putting her foot down as she reached the open road and pushing her speed up to over 100mph again. "I love this car," she murmured, listening to the snarl of the engine as she increased her speed to 150mph. She pushed the button to roll the windows down and icy wind whipped through the car, clearing her head and messing up her hair.

Hermione glanced in her rear-view mirror, hearing the siren in the distance long before she saw the flashing lights as a police car came speeding up the motorway behind her. She started to slow, and pulled onto the hard shoulder as the police car pulled up behind her, and a lone officer got out. She turned the engine off and sat back in her seat with her hands resting lightly in her lap, waiting for his approach. "You want to get out of the car, miss?" He asked as he drew level with the open window, and Hermione opened the door and stepped out, following his outstretched hand in the direction of the police car.

Once she was sat in the back seat, the policeman sat in the passenger seat and read the registration number of her vehicle over the radio, checking if the vehicle was stolen. Whilst he was waiting for the reply he turned to look back at her. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" He asked, pulling out a breathalyser machine, and Hermione shrugged. In the confines of the police car his scent was strong and Hermione was finding it hard to breathe. She stared at him, silent, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them, the bare feet resting on the edge of the seat.

"Is that your car?" He asked and Hermione just rolled her eyes and grinned, resting her chin on her knee, holding her breath. He passed the breathalyser back to her and gave her instruction on how to use it, and Hermione stared, knowing she was going to have to get herself out of this. She shoved the machine back through the gap between the seats and unfolded herself from the back seat. "Not my car," she purred at him, holding onto the front seats and slipping through feet first to sit in his lap, pinning him to the passenger seat.

"Are you on drugs lady?" He trembled beneath her as she leaned forward and sniffed, no longer fighting his scent and he went rigid as she panted, revealing razor fangs glinting between her parted lips.  
"No drugs," she whispered, leaning in as if to kiss him, and she captured his face gently between his palms. "No fear," she murmured to him, staring deep into his eyes. "No pain." She planted a soft kiss on his lips and tilted his head gently, exposing his neck.

She grunted with sheer pleasure as her teeth pierced his skin and hot blood pumped into her mouth and her fingers gripped his shoulders convulsively as she gulped down the first few mouthfuls. With a sad sigh she forced herself to pull back. "You won't remember any of this," Hermione whispered, her lips to his ear, planting her suggestion deep in his mind. "You won't remember anything other than finding a car abandoned at the side of the road with the keys still in the ignition." She carefully extricated herself from around him, glancing at the clock on the dashboard as she slipped out through the door.

Hermione walked up to the crash barrier, pulled herself up onto it, balancing carefully, and then leapt over the ditch, landing in the field on the other side. She took off running again, hugging the edge of the field along the road until she reached buildings and found she was on the outskirts of a retail park, silent and dark at this time of night, with a few sad solitary cars in the car park. She broke into the first one she reached, started the engine and pulled out onto the bypass, keeping her speed within the legal limit as she passed a sign which told her she was only 5 miles from Manchester.

The hours were ticking down to sunrise as the miles fell behind, and by 6am she was in Hastings, looking for somewhere to leave the stolen car. Hermione pulled up in front of a police station and got out of the car, walking away quickly. There were more people around now, heading for work, starting their days, and she ran through the streets at a reined in pace, skidding to a halt as she passed Hastings Bus Terminal. There was a coach in one of the bays with her destination in big white letters on the front, and she quickly bought a ticket and climbed on.

Twenty minutes later Hermione stepped off the coach in Dover and wandered down a quiet street, feeling tense and panicky as the sky lightened and dawn drew ever nearer. She ducked inside the front door of the Dover Travelodge, rain dripping down her neck, covered in mud up to her knees.

Before she went inside Hermione looked through the door into the reception area and found a single clerk was on duty, slumped back in a chair behind the desk with his feet up, snoring gently. She clocked the security cameras as she pushed the door open silently and padded barefoot across the tiled floor, pulling at her wet hair so it fell around her face. She tapped on the desk with one finger and the clerk, whose shiny bronze badge proclaimed him to be Simon, jerked awake so abruptly that he fell off his chair.

Hermione rushed around the desk and helped him up, silently praying he would believe any story she told him without question. Simon looked at her blearily as she set him on his feet. "Hi," he mumbled, rubbing his elbow which he'd bashed on a filing cabinet as he fell. "What can I do for you?" Hermione returned to the customer side of the desk and folded her arms across her chest, huddling inside her soaking sweatshirt and shivering.

"I need a room," she told him quietly, and he nodded vaguely, staring at her.  
"Do you want a regular room or a premier suite?" He asked distractedly, and Hermione shrugged.  
"I really don't care. As long as it has a shower and bed rest of the details are unimportant."

The clerk turned away from her and started typing away at the computer. "I have a double room available for you. Check out is 11am so you will have to pay for last night and tonight to have use of it for the entire day…" he trailed off and waited for her response.  
"That's fine." Hermione said with a nod and reached into her pocket.

"That's £298.50 and we require a credit card for check in."  
Hermione froze, suddenly wondering how she going to get around that.  
"I don't have a credit card," she told him, pulling her money stuffed passport out of her jeans and dropping a wad of banknotes onto the desk. She counted off £300 in £20 notes, and then counted off a further £100.

Simon looked cautiously around the empty reception, picked up the £100 from the desk and without a word he pulled his own credit card out of his pocket and turned back to the computer screen where he filled in some made up details.  
Hermione sighed with relief and sagged against the desk.

"What are you running from?" he asked suddenly and Hermione whipped her head up. "What?" she demanded and he swallowed, shaking visibly.  
"I asked is there anything else?" Simon stammered, holding a key card in a little paper wallet with her room number written on it in smudgy black ink out to her.  
Hermione shook her head and took it, careful to avoid touching his hand. "No, thank you," she breathed, and fled down the corridor to her room.

Once inside she flicked the lights on, pulled the plastic blackout blinds and curtains closed and dragged the mattress off the bed, lifting the double divan base easily and propping it in front of the window on its end. Then she sank on to the mattress on the floor in the middle of the heap of bedclothes, one leg curled beneath her, resting her head on the other knee, contemplating her next moves. She stared at the far wall, and then at the television, wondering if she could stand to turn it on and deciding she wouldn't be able to cope with the noise. She stood up abruptly and started stripping off her wet clothes, frowning down at the damp patch on the bed where she had sat. With a shrug she went into the little bathroom and flicked the light on.

The room was Spartan, but clean, with a simple walk in shower, sink unit and toilet. Hermione reached in and turned the shower on, and froze as someone knocked on the door. She grabbed a towel from the rail and wrapped it tightly around herself and crept up to the door, just as the person knocked again.

"Who is it?" she called timidly, resting one hand on the door frame and the other on the handle.  
"It's Simon from reception," came the reply, and Hermione bit her lip.  
"Is there a problem?" she asked, casting an anxious glance back over her shoulder at the window. The sun would be fully up by now, there would be no escape.  
"There's no problem," Simon replied, "I just want to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Hermione took a breath and twisted the handle, stepping back and hiding behind the door as she held it open; Simon slipped in through the gap and she shut it quickly again. She pulled the towel tighter as she turned to face him. "What do you want?" she asked, watching him as he stepped fully into the room and took in the carnage.

He stared at her in silence for a moment and then dropped to sit on the mattress on the floor. "You look like you're in trouble. I came to see if I can help in any way."  
Hermione leaned against the TV table, not meeting his gaze. "What makes you think I'm in trouble?" she asked with a shrug.  
Simon rolled his eyes. "You turn up soaking wet, covered in mud and not even wearing any shoes. It doesn't take a genius to figure out something isn't right."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, still not looking at his face. "I'm fine," she mumbled and Simon snorted.  
"Look, I'm not here to judge, ok?" He got up and moved towards her and Hermione shrank away from his touch, pressing herself against the wall. He held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture and took a step back. "Ok. I don't want to know what's going on, I just want to help."  
"Help how?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Maybe I can buy you some shoes," he smiled at her and Hermione finally looked him in the eye, seeing nothing but concern in his expression.  
"I didn't do anything wrong," she blurted, feeling she needed to explain a little. "I am in trouble though. I'm running away from some people who want to hurt me, because they don't like what I am." She left it at that and shrank back again as Simon reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder.  
"You don't need to say anything else. Just tell me what I can get you."

Hermione reached up cautiously and grasped his hand as it rested on her shoulder, suddenly her knees felt weak and she leaned on him.  
"A change of clothes and some shoes is all I need. I can give you money…"  
Simon squeezed her hand and then let go, walking towards the door. "You already did. What size are you?"  
"Size 10," Hermione trailed after him, feeling confused. "And size 5 feet."  
"Ok, I've finished my shift and I'm going home now. I'm back in work at 7 this evening. You'll still be here right?"

Hermione nodded. "I don't have anywhere else to go at the moment," she said, and a big fat tear rolled down her cheek.  
Simon wiped it away with his thumb.  
"Go on, you go and shower and sleep or whatever. I'll be back."  
He hovered for a second, indecision flitting across his face, and he quickly leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

Hermione closed the door and leaned against it, a smile on her lips.  
Then she went for her shower.

...

Simon came back just before 7 that evening with a handful of shopping bags, which he dropped in surprise as Hermione yanked him into the room and slammed the door shut.  
"Sorry," she mumbled, grinning sheepishly.  
"You look better," Simon said, looking her up and down.  
She was still wrapped in a towel, but now had clean, dry hair and clean feet. She had also repaired the room, and Simon dumped the bags on the freshly made bed.

"I didn't really know what to get, so there's a pair of jeans, a couple of t-shirts and sweatshirts, and some socks and under things, as well a pair of hiking boots."  
His eyes widened as Hermione grabbed a pair of pants and just let the towel drop, stepping into the knickers and grabbing her bra from among her dirty clothes. She dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of the plain black socks Simon had bought and lacing up her new boots.  
"This is great," she said, looking up at him. "Thank you."

Simon shrugged. "Was nothing," he said with a smile.  
Hermione stood in front of him, backing him up against the wall, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Simon responded by putting his hands on her waist and Hermione turned him around and backed him up against the bed instead, pressing him down and climbing into his lap.  
She felt her fangs growing, so tilted his head, exposing his neck, and sank her teeth into him.

Simon moaned and bucked beneath her, grinding his pelvis into her, and Hermione pulled back, licking his blood off her teeth, and kissed him on the cheek again before slipping out of his lap. He fell back on the bed, breathing heavily, and she took the opportunity to pull the labels off the rest of the clothes and stuff them into the backpack. Then she straddled his waist again, and stared down into his face. Simon was a little pale, still panting, but otherwise ok.

"I wanted to thank you," Hermione said softly, planting her suggestion in his mind, "so we had sex, and I gave you some more money for helping me, and then I left. You don't even know my name, and you will never think of me again."  
"Yes," Simon murmured, dazed.  
Hermione snatched up her passport and money, counted out £100 more and tucked it into his pocket. Then she shouldered her new bag and quietly left the room.

Simon sat up slowly, blinking, feeling a little dizzy and dopey, like he had water in his ears. It took him a few tries to get his legs to support him, and when he was on his feet he staggered a little and had to hug the wall as he made his way to the door. He remembered a girl…? He shook himself, a funny thought in the back of his head as he pulled the door closed behind him, and went to the staff room. And he never thought of her again.


End file.
